


Closer

by punkish



Category: Fake News RPF, Late Night Host RPF, The Late Show with Stephen Colbert (TV)
Genre: Bondage and Discipline, Dark Character, Explicit Language, F/M, Masturbation, Physical Abuse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, RPF, Smut, Torture, Wifeless AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 01:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10709577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkish/pseuds/punkish
Summary: You know how it goes, right? You aren't feeling so great about yourself and then someone is nice to you so you want to bone that person? That old story.





	1. Come Undone

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person mentioned.

Work was endless, day in and day out there was always someone wanting something from him, gradually supping his energy like relentless vampires. He needed a break. Stephen's fingers lazily caressed his scalp as he tousled his hair before smoothing it back into place. He leaned back in his office chair with a sigh, there was so much to do to get ready for tonight's taping but right now his mind didn't seem interested. A strange mood had encroached on him recently, he found himself mulling over the past and worried about superficial things like his appearance much more than usual. It was stress, it was the season, there was a multitude of reasons this was coming up now and he dismissed the thoughts as nothing more than symptoms of those things.

“Stephen!” A familiar frustrated voice pried him mercilessly from his day dream. “You need to go and see Daniel, _right now_.” Liz was ushering him out of the comfortable seclusion of his office within moments.

“I knew you'd find me there.” He said, half turning to her as she followed him down the hall, an amused look on his face.

“I know all your hiding places Stephen.” her tone was distracted as she flipped through the papers on her clipboard, “Although your office is one of the better ones... When you get back I need a meeting.”

He turned to say something sarcastic but she had already disappeared into one of the maze of offices. Everyone was flitting about, hard at work with looks of mild panic plastered on their faces, he knew they all needed a break. It was then fortunate that Christmas was around the corner which meant a few weeks of sweet freedom was near at hand. He kept moving towards the elevators in case Liz was watching, somehow she always seemed to know what he was doing.

\---

“Shit, fuck.” Stephen hissed. Popping champagne was always a risky feat, especially for him. While holding the bottle away from important desk items, he fumbled for something to mop up the mess of alcohol. Relief had washed over him, the last taping of the year was over and by all accounts, was a success. The Christmas/wrap party had concluded and he decided to sneak away to his office for a private celebration; meanwhile the last of the crew idled their way into the cold New York streets to make their journey home. _Peace at last_ , he thought as he finished pouring the sparkling gold liquid into his glass. Champagne in hand he turned to his office window to see that his was just one of many that were lit, blinking in the darkness. He held his glass aloft as if to toast the people he couldn't see. The light behind him gave a slight mirrored effect to the window, and having caught site of his reflection he began to pull gently at the lines on his face with his free hand before gulping down the drink in the other. He knew he'd already had quite a bit at the party but soon drifted into a 'fuck it' frame of mind and poured another generous glass. He had come to learn that alone time was brooding time, even this moment of celebration was interrupted by gnawing insecurity. He returned to his reflection, looked at himself from different angles, broke into his characters' facial expressions and mannerisms before slouching his shoulders and waving a dismissive hand at himself, unimpressed with what he saw.

It wasn't until after 1am that Stephen stumbled drunkenly into the frosty street. Looking slightly disheveled and still in his suit from the taping, he decided that this was a good time to go for a walk. Despite the hour there were still many people around, some recognized him and they smiled and waved while he reciprocated as best he could in his current state before returning to his gloomy thoughts. All the alcohol had succeeded in darkening his mood further and his mind had settled in a comfortable niche of self loathing. After walking for an indeterminable amount of time he became aware of how quiet it was, he sighed a frosted cloud of relief into the chill night air, the quiet suited him just fine. While distracted in this blissful moment he managed to walk squarely into exactly the wrong person.

“Hey, why don't you watch where the _fuck_ you're going?!” yelled a large drunk gentleman, he aggressively threw his drink on the ground, shards of glass and liquid erupting at his feet. “You see what you made me do?!” He grabbed Stephen by the lapel and firmly shoved him backwards.

Stephen stumbled, he was close to blackout drunk himself and could barely understand what was happening. He held his hands up submissively, aware enough that he was not in any state to engage in a physical fight with this man.

“It was an assident, I'm juss walking,” He slurred back in a tone he hoped sounded apologetic. Expecting a fight to commence regardless, he held his arms up and prepared to defend himself. Not a moment later he was aware of soft, warm hands encouraging him to lower them, in addition he could hear a voice, was someone talking to him? He strained to comprehend the words.

“I'm going to try and help, just pretend you know me okay?” whispered a gentle but urgent voice, “There you are, I can't believe you just wandered off and left me!” the stranger scolded, she placed herself strategically between the two men, with arms akimbo she faced Stephen, staring him down with a look of mock outrage.

“You... juss seemed busy so I thought I'd ...” Stephen made a walking gesture with his fingers and shrugged.

Silently thankful he had caught on she continued the charade “Oh my God, I was talking to someone else for a minute, I turn around and you're gone. Honestly there are two year old children with more patience.” She turned quickly to address the other gentleman, hoping to flatter him with womanly charm, “Look, I am terribly sorry about my friend, he is quite intoxicated as you can see.” she pulled out her purse and rummaged around before extracting a twenty and holding it out “Next round is on me?”

Stephen lurched forward a step, slightly confused, but with the intention of continuing his walk. Despite what was happening right next to him, it was the one sensible thing his champagne soaked mind was telling him to do. _Finish what you started Colbert,_ he thought, as he held his head and attempted to get his bearings.

The man grunted, bewildered by her sudden intrusion on the situation and eyed her suspiciously as he snatched the twenty dollar bill from her. Finally he replied with a sneer, “Whatever, he isn't worth my time,” he looked past her to see Stephen stumbling up the street, and added “oh, and looks like he's getting away again.”

“Ugh, yeah go fuck yourself.” She muttered, relieved to see the asshole depart the scene with haste, leaving her alone to deal with her “friend”.

Before he could take another step the same hands from earlier were holding him steady, and then the person he assumed they were attached to appeared under his arm. He felt her firmly grasp the hand he had slung around her shoulder and wrap her other arm around his waist.

“And where do you think you're going?” she queried with a raised brow, “You and I, we were just doing a little improv, you weren't _actually_ supposed to leave.” she chuckled, he was in quite a state.

“You're warm.” he said with a shiver, regarding her question as rhetorical.

Her features softened and she felt her cheeks grow even warmer, “Well you're freezing,” she replied as she turned to look him over a lot more slowly than she meant to, “and completely shit-faced.” Her teeth grabbed softly at her bottom lip.

She wasn't being judgmental, just making a statement of fact, which was nice since he wasn't much in the mood to be judged. The mystery woman began to guide him toward an unoccupied bench where she could sit him down temporarily. Whatever just happened had provided a short reprieve from his angst but it soon began to creep back. Before long he was consumed in his thoughts again, oblivious to his surroundings and very quiet. He put up no physical resistance to her aid having decided on some level of consciousness that it was easier than walking by himself.

She lowered him onto the seat and once she was fairly sure he wouldn't fall over, took her coat off and placed it around his shoulders. The sudden enveloping warmth cut through his mind and brought him back to reality. Impulsively he pulled the coat around himself as tightly as he could, it didn't fit completely but it was better than nothing.

“Won't you get in trouble,” she began, taking a seat close beside him, “for wandering around the streets in the dead of night while wearing a very expensive suit that doesn't belong to you?” She leaned forward to peek up at him.

“How do you know issnot mine?” a hint of surprise and mock offense in his slurred response.

She smiled warmly, “Lets call it an educated guess..” she hesitated for a moment before reaching over and adjusting his tie, “Sorry, it's loose, don't want to look like a drunk now do you?” she smiled a little, remembering it had been something she'd seen him say before. When she'd finished, her hands withdrew but her eyes lingered on him for a time, “You.. um.. you look good, the blue suits are my favorite but you probably hear that all the time.” The words fell out in a quiet hasty jumble that part of her hoped he hadn't heard.

Stephen turned to see her staring intently at the ground, a very subtle pained expression on her blushing face as she reprimanded herself internally. He decided not to make anything of it to her but the compliment beat back some of the gloom in his own mind. Was that it? He hadn't had his ego stroked enough lately? His companion shivered beside him and leaned in closer. “You're cold, you should take this back.” he said, shifting to remove the coat.

“No, no I am fine, even without it I still have more layers on than you.” she looked up and down the street, mumbling, “Shouldn't be too much longer.”

If she wasn't going to take her coat back he would at least share what little warmth he had with her. He opened his arms in offering and she awkwardly accepted the invitation, leaning in so he could wrap them around her snugly. Feeling tense, not wanting to rest her head on him or do anything presumptuous, she sat stiffly and let him hold her.

“Oh my God,” he shook his head at the uncomfortable way she sat against him, “thass adorable but you're allowed to relax, I'm not contagious... that I know of.” A reassuring smile on his face. “Thissisjus a...” he gestured as he tried to find the words “a mutually beneficial warmth exchange.”

Right, of course it was okay! It all made sense, he hugged people every day as part of his job and probably even outside of that, he seemed to be quite fond of humans in general. This was all perfectly innocent. Now that she had permission to relax she rested her head on his chest near his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him in kind, it was warm under the coat. There was still a faint scent of cologne in his clothes that was extremely pleasant, so much so that she had to fight the urge to nuzzle her face farther into his shirt. Then she noticed his heart beat, it was quite fast from the alcohol as she followed it in her head, anticipating the subtle change with each breath in and out. A sigh issued from her parted lips and her eyes closed. She concentrated on his hand rubbing her side and how with each motion he would stroke the side of her breast. After a time she felt him inch his hand cautiously up her spine until his fingers rubbed back and forth across the nape of her neck and...

 _Shit_ , she thought, _what is going on? What the hell is going on?_ “Oh wow, I just realized how rude I've been!” she was silently thankful for an excuse to pull away from the him and sit up again. “I completely forgot to introduce myself, I'm Victoria but I prefer Vicky.” With a forced smile on her flushed face, she held out her hand to him. Although trying to appear normal and fine, she was certain nothing about her performance was natural.

Stephen was taken aback for a moment when she pulled away and thrust her hand towards him. Sure they had both neglected to introduce themselves, even if it were only to be polite on his part, but this seemed a sudden and disproportionate reaction. He raised a quizzical brow and took her proffered hand as if to shake it but instead held firmly and guided it to his lips.

“'s lovely to meet you, Vicky.”

His warm breath brushed across her fingers where he had kissed her a moment earlier. Vicky stared blankly at him, her heart pounding. Slowly she pulled her hand away as her mind clawed for some sort of response, all the while he smiled at her innocently though understanding glinted in his eyes. Before she could reply she noticed something over his shoulder, a car was moving slowly down the street towards them. “Ride's here.” she said meekly.

Vicky stood to avoid more conversation, moving to the curb to flag the car down. She opened the door to the back seat and greeted the driver before taking a deep breath and turning to Stephen. “Uh.. You coming?” she asked awkwardly, “You don't have to obviously but .. I wouldn't really feel okay leaving you while you're.. like this.”

He nodded and stood with a stumble. Without a second thought Vicky moved to his side, removed her coat from around him and helped steady him as he got into the car. She then walked around and got in the other side, checking to make sure he was comfortable. Stephen looked at her appreciatively as she sat back in her seat - acknowledging him with a half smile and a nod - she then turned to look out the window as the car pulled away.

\---

By the time they reached her building Stephen was starting to sober up, though he was still a little wobbly on his feet. She held one of his arms to help steady him as he flopped up the stairs, and let them through the security door into the dingy lobby. Stephen looked around slowly and then at his guide and she smiled softly at him.

“I know, it's a shit-hole isn't it?” she proclaimed taking a quick look around herself. “Thank God they fixed the elevators.” With a gentle nudge she moved Stephen towards them. They exited into a dim hall with a similar depressing atmosphere to the lobby. “Here we are!” she sung happily and opened the door with a bit of a shove.

Within moments they were inside a neatly kept apartment that was nothing at all like the rest of the building. At the very least it had been painted and was well maintained. Mismatched furniture and tastefully procured nick-knacks added a homely feel. This was the dwelling of someone who seemed to appreciate where they were and tried to make the best of it. Vicky kicked her shoes off as soon as they got inside the front door.

“Oh, do you want me to uh?” Stephen pointed at his beshoed feet.

“No, no,” she reassured, “what ever makes you comfortable, I am always glad to be out of heels as soon as I can.” She smiled and hung her coat up on a hook in the small hallway and wandered into the living room, gesturing for him to follow. “Just make yourself at home.” she flicked on a few lights and disappeared around the corner.

Stephen - having decided to remove his shoes as well - followed more slowly, admiring some of the pictures she had up. Upon entering the living room the first thing he noticed were large posters of mythical beasts on the wall near the television. Then he spotted the best thing he had seen in a while on the wall above the couch, and pranced over like an excited child to have a closer look. It was a framed pencil drawing of a balrog, he knew it was a balrog because the picture told him so, inscribed in Quenya across the bottom. Beautiful and intricate, some of the details like the fire had been added in ink, giving a splash of color to the image.

“This is just incredible,” his face nearly pressed to the glass, “where did you find it?”

Vicky poked her head out from the kitchen to see what he was talking about, “I thought you'd find that interesting.” a bashful smile crept across her face, “I'm glad you like it... I uh, I did it a while ago.” she disappeared quickly, the fact that he liked her stupid drawing was so amazing she needed a moment to gather herself together, it was like he'd kissed her hand again.

Stephen peeked around the wall curiously, Vicky was standing at the counter looking intently at two cups, thoroughly entranced, while the kettle boiled away. He walked in a few steps, “It's lovely, you could make alotta money doing that if I know nerds, and I think I do.” He rubbed his fingers together comically.

Though she saw him in her peripherals she didn't respond, not verbally at least, nor did she turn around, in fact the more he said the less she felt she could ever look at him again without becoming a gooey puddle on the floor.

“You're very talented.” he said, taking another couple of steps toward her and saw her knuckles turn white as she gripped the counter.

Beyond all comprehension, this man who she admired was standing in her home and complementing her. “Th-thank you.” her voice a breathless whisper, she felt her cheeks turn pink “There are a lot more valleys than peaks in my creativity, makes it difficult to rely on it for an income.” It wasn't that she had never considered the idea, but she knew herself too well to risk leaving secure employment to pursue anything as unpredictable as art. “My boring old office job suits my needs and I am free to draw when I feel like it.” her voice trailed off, thoughts of earlier filled her mind like tangled wisps of smoke, his soft lips against her hand, his fingers maybe not-so-accidentally touching her breast and then the pleasant aroma of cologne in his clothes. _God, what was this? What am I thinking? Stop, stop.._ she counseled herself back from her mental field trip. Unsure how long she had been staring and too self conscious to move or say anything, she remained as she was.

Stephen watched her thoughtfully, somewhat aware of what was going on. He turned the stove off and picked up the kettle so he could fill the cups she had been staring at with water. There they stood side by side in silence for a moment while he made them tea. _This is okay_ , she thought, _this is a normal thing that happens, I'm sure._

“Are you...”

“I'm sorry,” she interrupted, a troubled but apologetic look on her face, she turned to him and placed her hand on his upper arm, “there is a lot going on in my head right now, I'm not trying to be rude even though it must seem that way. It's nothing to do with you.. I mean, it's nothing that you're doing.” her hand gripped his arm reassuringly, “There is ..stuff.. happening, at least I think there is, and if there is I don't know if it means anything, and I _really_ don't want to make assumptions." With a defeated sigh she began to pace the kitchen, "It's just ...this wasn't ever supposed to happen, you know?” gesturing back and forth between the two of them. “I never entertained the idea that this impossible set of circumstances would occur because I am a rational human being. I thought I was.” the words poured out in a flurry, she pitched forward slightly cupping her hands over her face in frustration. “I don't know what's going on.”

The truth was Stephen didn't know either, he was acutely aware that, despite his best effort, her confusion _was,_ in part, his doing. Tonight her kindness had been what he needed, she stroked his ego and the insecurity fled from his mind but beneath it was something else, a beast that was becoming more difficult to control. It would rationalize his desire, she obviously had feelings for him so what was the problem? No, it wasn't right to take advantage of her kindness, he had to stop, he had to restrain himself but he didn't want to. This repetitive thought conversation turned over in his mind, and the outward manifestation of that conflict was the disparity between his words and his actions.

He pulled her gently into a comforting hug and rubbed her back. He wanted so much to do the right thing, _Just hold her, that's all._ he half told, half begged to himself, but these sweet gestures did nothing to quell his mounting lust. The blood pounding in his ears was all he could hear as though the lecherous beast inside him was fighting for freedom, and oh how desperately he wished to free it. Writhing in self induced torture he turned his face towards her neck, his warm breath and then his lips brushed her skin. It was electric. Ecstasy and agony all rolled into one.

Vicky felt a jolt of pleasure run through her body at the touch of his lips, she shivered and buried her face in his shoulder, handfuls of his shirt and jacket were clenched in her fists. This wasn't happening, it's not supposed to. Yet here she was, every inch of her body aching for him, pleading to be touched, kissed, licked. For what felt like the longest time she was poised on the brink of ripping his clothes off, until internal conflict bubbled to the surface and she pulled back “No, wait, what are we doing? This isn't okay, is it?” she almost begged in want of clarity and relief, “Just tell me what this is, tell me what you want.”

 _Just say it, she wants you to... She wants you._ But no, some asshole part of him was enjoying messing with her right now. His dark eyes flickered, “I don't want anything, and everything is okay, I promise.” a lie wrapped in a reassuring voice, his face softened into a friendly grin to confuse and disarm her once again. _What the fuck are you doing?_ He lifted a hand to touch her face and then her neck, his fingers played across her nape while he held her gaze. Closer and closer he crept to the precipice, every touch threatened to push him over the edge and still he persisted. With a firm grip on the small of her back he pulled her in, pressing himself against her. At once he initiated a passionate kiss, roughly prying her lips apart so that he could explore her mouth, their tongues wrestling while her uneven breaths caressed his cheek. His trousers had become an uncomfortable restraint, stretched tightly against the rigid bulge now within them. “Fuck.” a single word half whispered, half moaned against her lips and a clear indication of his lascivious intent.

Yes, now she understood and this was her moment to torture him a little in retaliation. With gargantuan effort she turned away from his intoxicating kiss and his piercing dark eyes. “No, Stephen, stop.” breath trembling under her strained resolve.

The words grated against his brain like nails down a chalk board, they were everything he didn't want to hear. _No?!STOP?!_ he felt a rising irrational anger as the beast cried out for satiation. Ideas that he would normally find repulsive filled his head, he wanted to tear her clothes off and force her to give him what he needed. He wanted to punish her for denying him, yes that's what he would do. “What is it?” his voice was more harsh than he intended despite his best attempt to sound calm and genuinely concerned, the last thing he wanted was for her to see behind _that_ curtain.

Quietly she replied, “You lied.”

He stared at her in silence.

“Did you have fun messing with me?” she continued, her eyes flashed with resentment as her hand moved down his body, stopping beside the tantalizing swelling in his pants. “Stephen,” she whispered, snaking her free arm around his neck and resting her forehead against his, “what do you want from me?”

A game? He liked games. The corners of his mouth twitched into a satisfied smirk at the idea of getting everything he wanted. Through his trousers he felt the light touch of her teasing fingers on his cock. He took a sharp breath in through his nose as his hips pressed into her hand, staring intently into her eyes. Without warning he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand off his crotch and the other from around his neck. In a single motion he had both her arms behind her back and was forcing her to bow over the counter. For a moment he stood there admiring her from behind while he pondered what to do next. It didn't take long for the idea to come to him, he tugged his neck tie off and used it to bind her wrists. Stephen moved to her side and kept her pinned with one hand in between her shoulder blades while the other gripped her throat. He leaned over her so his body half rested along her back and could feel her uneven, perhaps frightened breaths. The fingers around her neck moved under her chin, encouraging her to lift her head so he was able to trace her outer ear with his tongue and teeth. With his lips pressed to it, he purred in a manner that was both dark and seductive, “I want to fuck you, Victoria.”

\---

 


	2. Love is a Verb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4000~ word sex scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person mentioned.

Disabled beneath his uncompromising grip and by her own panic, she did not resist him. This was an unexpected turn which left her feeling like frightened prey with shallow breaths catching in her throat. So much pressure. As his weight bore down on her she closed her eyes and - to take her mind of not being able to breathe - pictured what he might look like right now. Collar and jacket unbuttoned, suit rumpled, hair a mess including that superman curl that always came loose. The rise and fall of his chest revealed how scarcely he was keeping a lid on his ardor, and she found the idea that this was him restraining himself very alluring. A fragment of her sadistic curiosity wanted to know him entirely unchained, but then she remembered how heavy handed he was being even at this early stage. The grip he had around her throat shifted and forced her head up, her lips parted in a rapturous sigh as his tongue and teeth engaged her ear. A ripple of intense pleasure caused her skin to erupt in goosebumps and her muscles to contract as his breath and voice rumbled through her oxygen deprived brain. Writhing helplessly against her bindings, a whimpered “Yes.” was all she could muster in reply.

Stephen smirked against her ear and tightened his grip on her when her body spasmed. Everything was in alignment within him now, it seemed all he needed to do was loosen the leash on the repressed demon he had been carrying, and suddenly he was a new man. How lucky of her to have found him in his moment of greatest need.

He removed the hand from her back and immediately felt her gulp in a few relieved breaths, though his other still had her by the neck. Through the fabric of her office attire he groped roughly at her bust and in the rush of excitement a lustful exhalation broke his lips. _God damn it,_ he tried desperately to withhold further impassioned utterances from her with great difficulty.

Cheeks flushed to a pinkish hue, she was beginning to look as disheveled as she imagined Stephen did. Nothing tormented her more right now than not being able to see him or touch him. However each time she made an attempt to turn her head his hand would hold her fast around the jaw, squeezing her cheeks slightly. Involuntary frustrated whimpers soon followed before she began another fruitless struggle to free herself.

“Stop moving.” the two words separated by a pause, his voice dead calm and unsettling.

She began to protest “I just want t...”

“None of that either.” He whispered in her ear in the same calm tone while squeezing her face again and moving it gently side to side. “I don't care what you want, this is my game and I make the rules. Do you understand Victoria?”

She frowned defiantly, though he couldn't see her face, and prepared to reply to him verbally again.

Before she could say anything he pushed two fingers between her parted lips and into her mouth. “Shh, my God you forget the rules quickly!” a smile breaking across his face at what enormous fun it was being in charge. Presently he took a sharp breath in at the sensation of his fingers being sucked, his dick twitched in anticipation, his face prickled with warmth and he was lost for a moment. Somehow she had one-upped him. He turned her head with his fingers still in her mouth so that now he was looking her in the eye, “I didn't say you could do that.” Cheeks red and brows furrowed, he squinted ever so slightly.

They had none of the sparkle they usually did, none of the warmth, his eyes were distant and cold. A pang of fear struck at her core but with it a strange desire and morbid curiosity. The game was his but she wanted to play the foil, to see how far she could push him and then dance at his boundaries. Perhaps, despite all his rules, in the end she would be fucked on _her_ terms. The idea felt dangerous which of course made her body react with excitement, a tingling warmth quickly forming between her legs. Her eyes glinted indignantly back at him, she wasn't sure how he wanted her to respond but was more than certain the way she chose to was not it. As far as possible she pushed her tongue out so that it lapped at his palm, she then pulled back, rolling it seductively over his fingers and watched his face flush again with great satisfaction.

The way he stared down at her in that moment was dark, lustful and barely in control of himself. Withdrawing his fingers from her mouth, he stood up and released his grip on her while he decided what to do. He was torn between desire and discipline, fighting with himself not to just break her over his cock right now. “Defiant little fucker.” he growled, huffing through flared nostrils as he grabbed her from behind. One hand around her neck and the other holding her bound wrists, he pulled her off the counter so that she was tightly against him. His hot and angry breath hit her neck, he felt her knees weaken and clamped his hand around her mouth when she tried to vocalize her enjoyment. With each breath his mouth came closer to her skin until his lips brushed her and her whole body arched while he held on.

She was expecting the warmth of his mouth any moment, breathing hard through her nose and trying to keep quiet so that he wouldn't stop. There it was, God his lips were so soft, then she felt his teeth and flinched within his grasp. White hot pain shot through her when he bit down hard on her flesh, she squealed through his hand and immediately tried to pull away from him, but he had her. Again he bit, his teeth left their mark on her neck a second time and her eyes welled with tears.

Out of the kitchen and over to the couch he walked, dragging her with him before throwing her roughly down. “That'll leave a mark.” chest heaving, he looked down at her in the same barely contained manner he had before, “let's say it means your mine.”

The pain had subsided quickly, in fact she even thought she may have liked it. Certainly the idea of being branded as belonging to him in some way was very agreeable. Lying on her back and on her tied wrists, she watched him through watery eyes. That look, God that look he kept giving her was addictive, it reminded her of the feeling she would get when she was on the brink of coming. She felt her cheeks redden at his intense, unflinching inspection of her.

“And now you understand, you see? I make the rules.” he smiled down at her, not a friendly smile more satisfied with himself. He moved towards her, placing his knees so that he straddled her waist and beetled over her to take a close look at the mark on her neck.

When he first came close she flinched but, to her surprise, he merely ran his fingers through her hair reassuringly. Disarmed by the sudden gentleness she was at a loss but found herself very much turned on at the abrupt shift. While he was hunched over her, she found his good ear right by her mouth and wondered naively if this moment of kindness meant she could express herself. “I will always find a way to displease you if it means you look at me like you did before. You know, like you can't decide whether to hit me or fuck me.” The room was so quiet that - even at a whisper - her voice cut forcefully through the silence. For what felt like the longest time he didn't react, he didn't even move. The air became still and tense with the anticipation of his response.

Still straddling her he sat up and swept his fingers through his hair, which hardly neatened it at all. Grabbing her by the cheeks with one hand he tsked at her saying simply, “What ever am I going to do with you?” With the other hand he began to slowly unbutton her top, enjoying the reveal of skin inch by inch all the way to the waistline of her skirt where it was tucked in. With a deep and trembling breath in through his nose he cupped his hand over one of her bra-covered breasts and squeezed. A satisfied smirk tweaked at the corners of his mouth, he removed his hand from her face and placed it over her other breast where he massaged them both with fervor.

Silently she squirmed under his touch, she wanted to vocalize her pleasure, tell him how perfect his hands were but she didn't this time, not when she was already expecting punishment. So far however, he appeared to be comparatively calm and was even uncharacteristically tentative when he had been undoing her blouse. It was sweet.

He maneuvered his hands eagerly into her bra and for the first time felt the pillowy warmth of her bare breasts. Through blushing cheeks he frowned down at her to at least keep the illusion of composure and control, even at the threshold of having neither. “Stop looking at me.” Reluctantly removing a hand from her chest to push her face sideways. Catching his bottom lip in his teeth, he moved the straps off her shoulders and down her arms as far as he could. One hand moved into her bra, the other held her around the nape while he leaned in and began trailing kisses along her neck then over her bare shoulders and collar bone. His fingers played with her nipples until he felt them become hard and at that moment so did he.

Perfect, beautiful, tormenting touch and now she couldn't look at him. She fought and twisted in silence, every detail of her restrained ecstasy was reflected in her movements. _Please free me_ , she thought at him, _let me show you what I want to do_. There was an aching warmth between her legs now, begging for attention. “Oh God, Stephen.” a whisper escaped when she felt his tongue flick across one of her hardened nipples before he took it into his mouth. She bit at her lips desperately trying to keep quiet as her back arched into the sensation.

He swept his thumb roughly across her mouth to let her know he'd heard her speak then sat back to watch her beg for him with her body. Adrenaline affected fingers struggled with the clasp on her bra and moved the unfastened lingerie so it rested above her breasts, his cheeks prickling with warmth at this new visual. Then, pressing himself to her exposed chest, he slid his arms underneath her and undid the binding on her wrists. While his hands were back there he grabbed her ass so that her hips were drawn firmly against him and he felt the pace of her breath increase. After searching around he found the skirt's zip at the small of her back and opened it, as he did that he pushed it and the stockings beneath down her legs.

Her hips rolled at the sensation of his hands moving down her bare thighs, he was so close to relieving her, just a little further. “Please.” she begged, her thought emerging as a whisper by mistake. Immediately she cupped a hand over her mouth, the other leaving apologetic trails through his hair.

“No, no, no,” he murmured, “rule breakers don't get rewarded so easily.” One hand moved to play with her breasts again while he trailed gentle bites and kisses over her neck. An impressive bruise was already blooming where he'd bitten her earlier, and to prove his point on rule breaking he meted out a delayed punishment for her previous transgressions.

Surprised and in pain, she yelped when his teeth met her already tender skin, her body flinching erratically. “Alright, that's enough.” She snapped, the words falling out before she had a chance to stop herself. She wriggled back a little, propped up on her elbows and panted heavily, staring daggers at him. As her anger dissipated, she broke his gaze and very slowly looked him over, this messy suit look was doing things for her, absent of thought she seductively moistened her lips.

Truly she scolded him and her tone was like a slap in the face but to his relief her anger faded quickly, some of the luster returning to his eyes after that. Now it was his turn to be enamored with the way she looked at him. He watched her eyes move hungrily over every part of his body and it was suddenly very difficult for him to maintain control of the game. She was sexy, disheveled, her clothes hung from her haphazardly and he wanted to be on her... in her.

Tentatively she reached forward, not sure what he would permit at this point. When her fingers brushed his hand and he didn't react she felt a rush, grabbing him by the lapel to pull him down on top of her. Their lips met and tongues entwined in an fierce kiss, Vicky ran her hands up the back of his neck and through his hair while his hands held her waist and then slid around her back to pull her closer. They broke away for a moment, foreheads together and panting. Suddenly nervous, her quivering hands unbuttoned his jacket and pushed it back over his shoulders. Getting the hint he removed it the rest of the way, letting it fall in a crumpled heap beside the couch. Their intense eye contact continued as she fumbled with his shirt, breath trembling and catching in her throat. Two activities she often performed simultaneously now seemed almost impossible.

He kissed her again, gently catching her lips in his teeth now and then, meanwhile undoing his belt and trousers so she could loose his shirt from them. Without breaking the intimate moment, he shimmied the shirt down his arms and it quickly joined the jacket on the floor.

She touched him everywhere, over his chest and down his sides her fingers explored, playing with a spot that made him flinch and smile against her mouth. Her arms wrapped around him and she lightly scratched all the way down his back causing his hips to thrust forward. “Mmh.” he made a satisfied sound that she felt resonate through their kiss. She blushed furiously, aware of his erection pressed into her leg and with haste, removed her own blouse and bra.

To give them both a chance to catch their breath he began kissing her elsewhere and surrounded her in his arms so he could feel her skin on his. Inflamed with desire he worked his tongue and lips down her body, stopping at her breasts to suck on her budding nipples until they were two glistening hard peaks. He continued down finally placing a kiss just above her panties and from that position he looked up at her, admiring the beautiful rhythmic flow of her movements. Their eyes met and he could see the longing in hers, begging for him to keep going.

He wriggled down the couch, his hands trailed her waist and hips and finally her thighs from which he finished removing the skirt and stockings, they too joining the growing floordrobe. Now that she was naked except for her panties he took a moment to absorb the scene, an inexplicably shy smile crossed his lips. He stood and moved her sideways so that he could kneel on the floor between her legs. For a moment he considered taking his own pants off but decided it was more of a tease to leave them, adjusting himself instead.

His breath was hot, even through the fabric she knew his mouth was right there, just inches from her. She bit her bottom lip in anticipation waiting for him to.. “Oh shit, St-Stephen.” He reached up to caress her stomach but she intercepted, weaving her fingers into his. That skilled tongue poked and lapped at her through the cotton barrier, it felt so good already she could hardly imagine the colors she would see once that obstruction wasn't there. It wouldn't take her long to find out, inhaling sharply as he pulled the crotch of her underwear to the side, again she felt his breath but now with more intensity. He kissed her clit and ran his tongue over it at the most agonizing pace he could manage before giving it a few rapid flicks. Her back arched and her fingers clenched tightly around his hand. “Jesus fucking Christ.” There wasn't a moment to catch her breath before he continued lapping and flicking and sucking gently until her sex was swollen and dripping wet, “Oh fuck, y-you're as good as I imagined..” she said breathlessly, her words a little slurred in her current state. If it had been possible for her face to be more red, it would have turned that shade the moment she realized what she had said.

Eyebrow raised curiously, he ventured with a wry smile, “And what do you mean by that?”

To avoid looking at him or answering the question she grabbed a cushion and covered her embarrassed face, a response which amused him greatly. He began to lick her again, paying close attention to her physical cues. From the muffled depths of her safety pillow he could hear her moaning and then speaking, “Oh God, Ste-Stephen ...Stephen I'm gonna..” and he pulled away just in time.

She threw the pillow aside to glare at him but immediately made to grab it again when she saw him standing there with his cock out in front of her face. He snatched the pillow away and tossed it out of reach, “No need to be bashful.” he said kindly, with the happiest smile she'd ever seen on a human. He ran his hand through her hair, encouraging her forward, closer to him.

Cautiously she reached her hand out, her cheeks a deep rouge, trying not to contemplate the absurdity of this moment. Biting her bottom lip, she lightly brushed his balls with her fingers and then lifted his shaft from the base, guiding it towards her mouth while her other hand rested on his hip.

He watched every moment and thought of the way she had sucked on his fingers earlier. An excited rush flooded him making his cock twitch in her hand as she drew it nearer to her lips. _Such warm breath_. First a tentative lick, then just her lips around the tip and finally the enveloping heat of her mouth surrounding him entirely. His head lolled back as his breaths became heavy exhalations of bliss.

Pulling him out of her mouth she licked his length from base to tip and then swallowed him as far down as she could, sucking and rolling her tongue just under the head while her hand slid up and down the rest of his shaft. Again she took his cock deep into her throat, further this time, so her face was just about touching his stomach. Her eyes flicked up to see him watching her, his gaze glassy and euphoric. As far as she could smirk with a face full of dick, she did so, her free hand stroking his waist and hips until she found the spot from earlier that made him flinch. He thrust involuntarily, forcing himself completely into her mouth, both a smile and a groan wrested from his lips. Slowly she pulled away, running her tongue in intricate patterns all the way along his shaft, sending shivers over his whole body. Deciding to give her jaw a moments rest she took him in her hand instead which slid easily up and down his full length, slick and glistening with her saliva. He became harder and harder with each stroke, until he was like a rock pulsing lightly in her grasp, his breath erratic. Eager to push him toward his apex, she wrapped her lips around him again, each flick of her tongue surrounding him in ripples of elation.

With a great deal of will power, he gently moved away from her and knelt down, encouraging her to lie back. Casually he pulled off her last remaining item of clothing and tossed it aside, his hands caressing where her underwear had been. He wet two fingers in his mouth and then rubbed them over her clit, eliciting a gasp, before pushing them inside. His other hand moved from her waist to cradle her lower back when she arched and whimpered his name. “Wow, I guess I didn't really need to lick them first.” he purred, pulling his fingers out and wrapping that hand around his dick, he pressed it against her opening and moved up and down. “God you're so fucking wet.” he whispered, finally sliding inside her as deep as he could go. His first instinct was to pull her as close as he could as he slowly moved in and out of her.

“Fuck, Stephen, oh my.. God.” Vicky gasped, wrapping her legs and arms around him, a trail of scratches on his back only made him thrust harder. She raked her finger tips across his scalp, looking desperately up at him and noticed the droplets of condensation on his glasses. "You're so perfect." she breathed as she concentrated on feeling every inch of him move inside her. Their bodies entangled as one, a glistening layer of sweat upon them in spite of the crisp early morning air. Closer to the precipice, "Don't stop, never stop." Eyebrows furrowed as the pleasure within her built to a trembling peak, her breaths becoming heavy and uneven.

“Yes, I need you, come for me.” He whispered as he too threatened to fall apart.

Her lips parted, her eyes looking at him and then into him, pushed to the point of no return. “Ste.. Stephen, Stephen..” she panted over and over, her climax sending rhythmic waves and convulsions through her body and over his cock.

“Vicky.. fuck.” He murmured, fractals erupted like fireworks across his vision, suddenly he felt one with her and a million miles away in the same instant. He pushed as deep as he could, spilling everything he had to give inside her and internalizing that shuddering moment of ecstasy.

Slowly they emerged from their euphoria like waking from a deep sleep, and for a while they just held each other quietly. At last Vicky stood and held out her hand - which he took - and led him to her bed. They nestled in the center surrounded by the plush comforter. Stephen curled his body around hers and wrapped her snugly in his arms while she wriggled against him, her hands finding his, she entwined their fingers. Finally in a state of complete peace they both began to drift off to sleep, neither wanting to think any further ahead than this perfect moment.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with the previous chapter - comments, suggestions and constructive critique is(are?) welcome!
> 
>  **Edit:** I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to write a third chapter but inspiration has struck!


	3. Id

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An agreement is made about just what type of relationship this is going to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person mentioned.

Late in the morning Stephen began to stir. The sheets were warm and soft on his skin, which reminded him he was naked, and then he became aware of the body in front of him, his arm still wrapped around her waist. Without opening his eyes he wriggled close and squeezed her against him for a minute. For the most part he was sure it hadn't been a dream but just in case, he thought if he stayed asleep reality wouldn't find him. After lying still a while, willing himself to drift off again, he realized it wasn't going to happen. With a drawn sigh he hesitantly opened his eyes a sliver, expecting any moment to be pulled from the warmth. Surely he would come to in a gutter near the Ed Sullivan Theater, to discover he had frostbite and a black eye?

Much to his relief, the bedroom came into view around him, the late morning sunlight diffused throughout. Stephen lay on his side propped on an elbow - Vicky in front of him - with his head resting on his hand. The corners of his mouth twitched into a faint smile as he watched her sleep. He thought his mind felt clearer today because of her and he appreciated that. Gently, he ran his hand up her side and over the back of her neck, her body reacting with goosebumps even in her sleep. A pang of guilt twisted his gut when he noticed the enormous bruise on her neck. What on earth had he been thinking last night? That wasn't him, he knew better than to behave that way, and yet... and yet he hadn't stopped himself. He covered it tenderly with his hand and, brows knitted with regret, closed his eyes as though he were trying to will it away.

From the gentle way he held her neck Vicky understood his plight instantly, her hand cupped his with a reassuring grip, “It's okay.” She spoke softly without turning over, her voice cracked and sounded tired but content. She had been sailing in and out of sleep for a similar length of time to him, fighting her own battle to keep reality at bay for as long as possible.

He lay grateful kisses along her shoulders and nape, then removing his hand, the purpled skin on her neck. She shifted so that her body was firmly against him and with that movement there was a change in tension between them. Stephen became aware of the pleasant sensation flooding his loins. The hand that had been holding her neck moved down her side and came to rest on her lower stomach where his fingers played in sensual circles, crawling imperceptibly lower with each stroke.

Vicky held her bottom lip between her teeth, cheeks blushing, a noticeable heat beginning to rise within her. Until last night she had never envisaged a time where she would actually be having sex with this man, even once. Now in the light of day, when everything was supposed to make sense again, nothing did and it appeared round two was on the cards. “Do we need to talk about ..last night?” The words fought hard to escape, she was aware that they might put an end to anything that was about to happen. The last thing she wanted to do was throw a bucket of ice water over this glorious sexual tension, but her damn conscience thought it was right to at least ask.

“Definitely.” he murmured in a voice of liquid seduction, his circling fingers burrowed between her lips and quickly found her clit which he began to massage, wresting a startled gasp from her.

“Stephen.” she exhaled in a whispered pant.

Clearly not distracted by her question, he pressed the side of his face to hers “Shh, there's plenty of time for talking. Can't you see there's a situation here that urgently needs taking care of?” Two digits entered her, the smile on his face widening when they easily slipped deep inside the silken warmth of her pussy. He hooked them slightly as he casually moved them in and out, his efforts rewarded with her rapturous moan and a measured tightening around his fingers.

Completely at his mercy, she couldn't move except to arch and writhe elatedly against him. Knowing that he was getting off on watching her reactions made the whole thing even hotter. “Oh fuck.” she breathed, reaching back to touch his face and run her fingers through his hair, occasionally grabbing and pulling it when he touched a particularly sensitive area.

“Look at you, all wet for me again.” he purred into her ear.

She smiled and between elated gasps managed to respond, “More like still wet for you.”

His eyes flashed at her reply, “Naughty girl.” he whispered, pulling her hips back so that his erection was against her ass. He nipped at her ear with a grin when she began to roll them sensually into his hardness, as a stream of pleasured utterances left her lips. Slowly he pulled his fingers from her, to disapproving whimpers, and pressed them to her lips, “You seemed eager to suck on these last night, so go on then they're even sweeter now.” There was a dark undertone to his request, and when Vicky shook her head his brows twitched into a subtle frown. He withdrew his hand and pushed her onto her stomach, holding her arms behind her back and pinning her with his weight. “Oh well, let's just fuck then.”

There was a rush of relief when her phone rang, “I need to get that.” She tried to sound like she wasn't concerned at all by his behavior, adding “Please?” when he failed to move. She couldn't see his face from her position so it was difficult to gauge his mood, but in the blink of an eye he seemed to shift from loving to aggressive. Finally he lifted himself off her and she crawled off the bed, grabbing a robe as she left the room and was careful to avoid looking at him.

Stephen sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face in frustration as he silently turned over what he'd just done in his mind. “No” was that his trigger now? Had he become that much of a brat? Unpredictable, intimidating, these were not words he would normally associate with his personality. When was “normally” though? He knew these problems didn't develop overnight, it would have been years building to this point. It had been a long while since he'd slept with anyone and he wondered if this side of his personality was limited to the bedroom, or whether it had bled into his work relationships as well and everyone was too nice or scared to bring it up. He swept his hands through his hair with a sigh, stood and walked around the bed to leave the room. Vicky was in the doorway, still on the phone, she made eye contact for a moment and half smiled, an expression mingled with worry and annoyance, before she averted her gaze. A towel and his suit were thrown at him and she silently pointed to the bathroom. He nodded and smiled gratefully, assuming she was being kind and not just trying to get him showered and out the door, although he knew even that was more than he deserved. Inside he was desperate to make things okay but she had been more than tolerant and forgiving already and in return he was a jackass, again.

The suit and towel landed on the tiled floor, with all that was happening in his head he had only just noticed the winter chill that had been biting at him the whole time. He quickly turned the hot water on as hard as possible and allowed the small bathroom to fill with steam before climbing into the shower and adjusting the temperature. Standing in the stream of steamy water had an almost meditative effect. He let it fall over him, the winding rivulets finding paths over his body while he imagined it washing away all the negativity that seemed to be swirling around him.

“All right, I'll catch up with you later, bye!” Vicky hung up the call and threw her cell phone onto the couch. She had forgotten that she was supposed to meet a friend for breakfast that morning, although her flaking on these things wasn't out of character so her friend had not been too concerned. Unsurprisingly her mind drifted back to Stephen almost instantly. _Jerk_ , she thought, in a caring way while she worried about him. Quietly walking to the bathroom, she noticed the door ajar and took the opportunity to peek in. It was very steamy but she could just make out his blurred form through the fog. She felt her face flush watching him, but knew that she shouldn't be - leave or go in - those were her options. After a moment of contemplation she slipped into the room, closing the door over behind her, the thudding in her chest seemed to drown out even the sound of the running water.

Stephen was startled when the shower door opened, he wasn't sure how long he'd been in there and thought his host was about to tell him off.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you.” She said softly, looking bashful and hesitant to go any further.

Relieved, he held out his hand in a gentlemanly way, “I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping you would join me.” a smile curled at the corners of his mouth.

Finding herself suddenly shy and unable to meet his eyes, she slipped the robe off her shoulders, onto the floor and took his hand, allowing him to guide her. “Are you.. okay?” concern clearly apparent in her voice.

“I am now.” he purred as he made to touch her face.

“Don't deflect.” she rebutted gently, holding his hand away and sighing nervously, “I don't mind things getting.. rough.. you know, with the sex,” a deep blush washed across her face and she felt his grip tighten for moment, “but so far it has all been inconsistent.”

The running water filled the silence as he struggled to find an answer that could accurately express how he felt. “I'm sorry.” He uttered, an inadequate response that was nearly inaudible over the shower.

“It's my fault too, this situation is very strange to me still, I just want to understand what you need.” It was obvious to her that he was grappling with some internal conflict that he wasn't willing to share. She gingerly ran her fingers through the graying hair at his temple, behind his ear and then over his cheek and jaw.

Stephen leaned into her touch, those trailing fingers were soothing to the tightly wound knot of unexpressed thoughts and worries he'd been holding on to, “I need a release, something aggressive,” his eyes glinted like polished onyx “something...” he paused for a moment and with a finger pressed lightly to her skin, he followed the streams of water running languid trails down her body, “something unrestrained.”

Finally some honesty, now they were getting somewhere. The combination of his proposal and the lazy path of his fingers across her skin made her tremble, this idea refreshed her curiosity from the night before and she nodded, “There should be a safe word though, just in case.” Perhaps it was naive to place herself in this situation, when only he understood the extent of the release he needed, and how far he would go to obtain it, but she was feeling dangerous. Besides they were talking it out now, so she had some idea of what to expect.

The paced thudding in his chest leaped intensely, and he drew a sharp breath through his nose to calm the rush of excitement that her agreement brought. He cupped a hand over one of her breasts, gently massaging the wet mound before pinching her nipple and rolling it between his fingers. “What, you don't trust me?” a smirk slid across his lips.

“I'm wary, you've been unpredictable,” she moaned and bit her lip as he gripped her nipple, continuing through heavy breaths, “and I.. I don't know what you're capable of yet.”

Still smirking, he let go of her breast and gave it a playful smack before running his fingers up the back of her neck and entangling them in her hair, yanking it hard. “I suppose you're right,” his voice quivered with anticipation and restraint, “your safe word is.. balrog.” he said, pulling a reference from the night before off the top of his head.

The grip he had on her was tight and her head was pulled back, so she nodded as well as could be expected, “Yes, balrog, I understand.” she repeated softly to clarify.

“Good girl.” He let her go and stepped out of the shower, quickly drying himself.

The water began to rain over her followed by the sting of confusion and disappointment. “Oh, I thought we were..”

“Quiet.” He said firmly, slinging the towel over his shoulder and turning towards her. A black look shadowed his face, those coal colored pools now seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Ever so subtly he dipped his head while maintaining intense eye contact with her, his first and only warning.

Their game had begun, if it could really be called that, she dipped her head silently in reply and closed the shower door. As she turned to the water and let it rush over her face and chest, mixed thoughts both nervous and excited began to flood her mind. Grabbing her wash cloth and the soap she began to scrub herself, still deep in thought until she noticed Stephen - now mostly dressed - staring at her through the glass. She paused awkwardly, feeling self conscious and wondering if he wanted her to do something specific.

“I didn't tell you to stop.” That silky baritone was laden with desire. He wet his lips, staring slowly and intently at every inch of her that he could see. “Turn off the hot water.”

Hesitation hit her like a truck, she uttered a syllable in protest before the look on his face silenced her in an instant.

In that same moment he flung open the shower door, wrapped one hand tightly around her mouth and forced her down to her knees. With the other hand he turned the hot water off and the cold on even harder, holding her as the freezing stream ran in rivers over her trembling form. “Now wash, stay on your knees.” He spat the words at her and shoved her face out of his hand.

Ice cold and humiliated, she could barely move for the shivering as her body tried to stay warm. Teeth chattering, she slowly began to move the wash cloth across her skin. Curiously she found herself a little turned on and thought about having some fun alone time after he left.

“My God, at least look like you're enjoying it.” he sneered, reaching down to pull her chin up so that she was looking him in the eye. “That's enough anyway, finish up, I will be waiting.” He pushed her face away and checked himself in the mirror a final time before walking out of the bathroom.

As soon as he was gone she fumbled for the hot water faucet, turning it on full blast and the cold almost completely off, then she sat on the floor, gathering the warmth around her. Once she stopped shivering she stood up and turned the shower off and stepped out to quickly dry herself, aware that Stephen was waiting.

He looked up from his watch as she walked out wrapped in a towel, “Come here and kneel.” He pointed at the floor in front of him and after she did so, he gave her a pen and held out his palm, “Write your number.”

She felt her face flush, enamored with the perfection before her. First she took in his long slender fingers, then the smooth skin on his palm which she brushed lightly with her own finger tips, her mind then wandering to all the ways his hands had been on her and in her. This was extremely intimate, at least for her, and something from which she normally derived great pleasure. Suddenly realizing she had just made a big mistake, her eyes darted up to see him glowering down at her and she immediately began to write out her number across his palm.

When she was done he slapped her across the face, not hard enough to hurt, just firmly enough to make a point. With a scowl he caught her hair up in his hand and forced her head back with a firm tug, “You have a lot to learn about obedience, and you will learn.” He hissed, a vague, threatening statement.

“Yes sir.” She replied submissively, swallowing hard.

He smirked and continued to hold her by the hair, “I have to leave now.” His tone was less harsh and there was an echo of disappointment in there. “While I'm gone you are absolutely not to touch yourself. Do you understand Victoria?”

She cursed internally, it was like he'd read her mind. “Y..es sir.”

“Good girl.” He stooped to kiss her forehead, “I will call soon.” Without looking back he made his way to the front door and he was gone.

Vicky fell backwards on to the floor, feeling drained but at least for now she could relax. A smile crept across her face as she touched the place he'd kissed her, relishing what was sure to be a rare moment of kindness. Her drowsy mind was beginning to catch up with the events of the morning and she contemplated the commitment she'd made. Thoughts of everything he had done and might do to her sent an ocean of goosebumps over her skin, while an aching sensation centered between her legs. Failure on such a simple task would be unacceptable, this was an exercise in trust. Resting her head on her hands she resisted the desire to relieve her throbbing clit; even though he was so sexy, even though she could still feel the places his hands and lips and cock had been, like memories imprinted on her body. With a drawn groan she stood up, roughly rubbed her face and wandered back to her room to put on some clothes. There wasn't much to do now except wait, but she definitely needed a distraction.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who actually follows my crappy little fic, I'm sorry this took so long; I honestly lost interest for a while. I wrote the first quarter when I was inspired in the days after posting the previous chapter, at the end of April. I then had a crisis of inadequacy after reading some really good fics, which caused a complete block until this week. It was a struggle to complete, but I hope it's still enjoyable. 
> 
> As always I'm open to constructive feedback in the comments!


	4. Glass and Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Stephen asks you to do something, you should probably just shut up and do the thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person mentioned.

The theater was a dead zone, of course, and for that Stephen was thankful. The idea of explaining himself to anyone was unappealing at best. He returned the suit to it's hanger and changed into his regular clothes from the day before, trousers, a dress shirt and brown leather shoes. Rubbing his chin as he looked himself over in the mirror, he caught a glimpse of the number written on his hand, it made his muscles tense and the breath catch in his throat. Being outside her apartment and replying to a few texts and calls had planted him firmly back into his own reality. He had only been gone an hour or so but in that time he had managed to almost entirely disassociate himself from all that had happened last night and that morning. There was the proof though, proof that she was real and that she was waiting. Excitement pulsed in him like an electrical charge, he swallowed hard and decided to go to his office.

Upon walking in the first thing he noticed was the empty bottle of champagne and then his coat, which was slung haphazardly over the back of his chair. A rousing warmth rolled down him from head to tow, his fingers trailing lazily across the polished wooden desk as he moved behind it and flopped into the chair. He turned to face the window with his chin rested on a closed fist. The posture he adopted was of someone who may have been contemplating the mysteries of the universe, but was in actuality operating on the much lower frequency of self-gratification. He took his phone out and slowly turned it over and over in his free hand while he waited for an idea to formulate.

Perhaps he shouldn't call so soon, but what would be an appropriate amount of time? He wasn't sure exactly and it was even more difficult to tell when all he wanted to do was get himself off. Images of her kept surfacing in his mind, seductive, obedient and sometimes not obedient, he hoped with a dark grin. Slouching back in the chair, Stephen held the phone up in front of his face, spying his reflection in the blank screen, “Fuck it.” He murmured and began entering her number.

One ring...

Two rings...

“Hello, this is Vicky speaking!” her voice was light and joyous, she obviously didn't know who was calling.

His reply a stern, “Victoria.”

He heard her breath catch sharply, and was aware that she had become extremely tense. The corners of his mouth curled into a satisfied smirk and he allowed the lingering silence to torture her for a moment longer.

“I hope you've been good my dear.” He purred, “You may speak.”

There was some uneasy breathing before her quiet reply, “Yes, I have.”

“Good.”

Resting his head against the back of the chair, he began to absently rub his hand across the groin of his trousers.

“Tell me, how busy do you think your building is at this time of day?”

There was hesitation and uncertainty. She almost misspoke.

“Wh... I uh, I'm not really sure.”

A firm bulge had now formed under the stroke of his hand, the layers of clothing between teasing him.

“I see, you'll find out then.” he paused with a smile and ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth, her nervous anticipation was a fantastic play thing, “You're to go to the elevators and tell me if anyone is around.”

“Okay.”

He heard her gather her keys and then the door closing as she left her apartment. These sounds were exhilarating, his extremities tingled, the sensation riding his skin in waves that centered on his hardening cock.

“There's no one here, Ste.. s..sir.” shyly correcting herself, unable to hide her anxiety.

Their game was now in the open and the thought of her standing nervously in the hall, waiting for his next instruction sent a delicious static charge down his spine. Quietly he opened his trousers, not wishing to reveal to her how turned on he was, his breathing becoming heavier as he began to stroke himself through his underwear.

“Good,” he struggled to keep his breathing steady as he spoke to her, “get in the elevator and close the doors.”

He heard an anxious gasp, even over the phone her apprehension was palpable. This part was simple enough but he knew what was next and was curious to see how far she would go.

“I'm in.”

“Now, sit yourself down in a corner..”

“Okay, I am.” she whispered in reply.

“I want you to play with yourself, and send me a photo.” he breathed into the phone, trying desperately to withhold the excited quiver in his voice.

He knew her thoughts must have been racing, trying to decide whether to protest or not. His free hand began to grasp more roughly at his cock, precome had formed a wet patch in his underwear which now bound him uncomfortably. Whatever she decided, it would be fun.

“B..ut, I think there's a camera in here.. w-what if someone catches me?”

Oh she would be punished for that, a thought which sent the same bristling charge of energy across his skin as that of her masturbating in public. He steadied his breathing again, even as he reached into his underwear to pull out his pulsing length.

“I know you know that wasn't the right answer my dear.” The words dripped like molasses from his tongue, sweet and dark, a dangerous combination. “Would you rather do as I ask, or find out what happens if you disobey me?” It wasn't a fair question really, she was already going to find that out, although she didn't know yet and he hoped it may encourage her in the right direction.

After a couple of minutes of silence he was about to pressure her again when a message rang through on his phone. The pounding in his chest grew in intensity as he pulled the phone from his ear to check that it was her. It was an awkward photo to take so he didn't mind the odd angle, her knees were up and he could clearly see her hand down her leggings. _Jesus, that's hot._ He felt his cock ache with need at the sight, but managed to pull himself back from the edge before he came. When he put the phone back to his ear he could hear her breathing roughly which quickly began to build him up again.

“What are you thinking about, hm? Sounds very inappropriate for a public space.” He teased in honeyed tones, “Are you thinking about me? Are your fingers my tongue right now? Licking sensual circles around your delicious pussy and then firmly over your clit, back and forth.” He heard her breath quicken, “Or maybe you're thinking about my cock splitting you open, filling you to the point that you don't think you can take any more, but then you do, you always do. You like the way I fuck you, don't you? What do you want from me hm? Do you want me to break you, pin you down and fill you with my come?” He waited until he could hear her building towards an orgasm. “Stop now.” He commanded, through his own rough breaths.

She let loose an agonizing groan.

“Go back to your apartment and do not touch yourself.” he said firmly before hanging up on her and throwing his phone on the desk.

He could let himself go now, his ragged breaths became audible, interspersed with profanity and her name. His hand held a tight grip, taking himself with long, even strokes. So close. Visions of her played in his imagination, she was lying naked in the elevator, her fingers pushing her towards an intense climax, until finally she was repeating his name in ecstasy while she arched her back and came to the sound of his voice. God yes, that's all he needed. Face flushed, haggard breaths skipped and caught in his throat, he gave himself a few final strokes and groaned loudly. His heavy breaths became a pant as he came harder than he was expecting, his load shot a good few feet across the room but he was too turned on to care. Slowly floating back down to earth, he relaxed into the chair with a gratified sigh, taking a few moments to enjoy the afterglow before picking up his phone. With a smirk, he tucked himself back into his pants and quickly cleaned up the impressive mess he'd made. Although it had been an extremely satisfying experience, he knew he would want more very soon.

\---

Stephen left his office with an idea and set about ordering a car to pick Vicky up from her place. Trusting that she'd have her phone nearby he texted her, _There is a car on its way to get you, you'll receive a message when it arrives, don't change your clothes. Text me when you are here._ It occurred to him after he'd sent it that he'd neglected to tell her where she was going, but decided the mystery would probably torture her, a prospect which he found very pleasing.

The theater was dark but for some minimal ambient light filtering in from back stage, just enough to make out what was going on in the room. There were a few items he needed to gather together before she arrived and he hunted around for suitable punishment props. After some thought he returned with a length of rope, an ethernet cable and the neck tie from one of his suits and placed them behind his desk on-stage. He sat down and put his feet up, allowing some very bad thoughts of toying with her in the darkness to run rampant through his mind. Time slipped by quickly while he was thoroughly engrossed in his imaginary romp, the buzz of his phone receiving a message snapped him back to reality. He made his way to the stage door with enthusiastic pace, opened it, and there she was. There was part of him genuinely happy to see her, a suppressed glimmer beneath the sadistic blackness he currently allowed to have free reign.

“In.” he commanded, cold and unforgiving.

She bowed her head and moved past him, the heavy door closing behind them, a sound that sent a shiver down her spine. She swallowed nervously, her hands clasping and rubbing together, fearing to turn around.

“Fear is healthy,” he whispered from behind her.

He pulled the neck tie from his pocket, it was wrapped loosely about his fist, and paced slowly towards her. Still she didn't move, just continued to wait for something to happen. So timid, so innocent. The hand entangled with the tie wrapped around her throat, his other arm holding her stomach, pulling her tightly to him and pressing his mouth to her ear.

“And you have every reason to be afraid.”

In spite of what he was saying and his unsettling tone, her skin bristled when his hot breath brushed her ear. She was locked in an odd mental state between absolute panic and desire. What was wrong with her? There didn't seem to be a line he could cross that would make him unfuckable. A small squeal of surprise was loosed when the tie wrapped around her mouth -- it dug between her lips like a gag – and was knotted tightly at the back of her head. She began breathing heavily through her nose.

He grabbed her arm above the elbow and pulled her roughly along with him towards the stage. His fingers burrowed hard into her flesh, causing her to make a muffled noise in discomfort. He stopped dead and rounded on her, his pitch black glare pinning her down.

“Stop now,” He growled “we've barely begun.” He grabbed her arm again, this time pushing his fingers in even harder, “You really think _**this**_ hurts? You don't know pain yet, my dear.” With a sneer he forced her onward.

For the first time she truly got a measure of what she had agreed to, and with a flood of dread, just how woefully unequipped she was to handle the situation. There was not a modicum of kindness to be seen in him, nothing that calmed her anxiety, certainly nothing that made her think he, in any way, had himself under control.

He half dragged, half walked his toy across the stage, taking her coat off before forcing her forwards over the interview desk.

“Don't move.”

He went behind the desk to grab the rope, using some to bind her hands behind her back. More tenderly than he intended, he knelt down to remove her shoes and then bound her feet together at the ankles.

“On the desk, on your back.”

In silent compliance, she wriggled herself onto the desk, lying back over her bound wrists. This was going to become uncomfortable very quickly, a thought which must have been visible in her facial expression because Stephen was standing over her, frowning and shaking his head. She watched him inspect her in silence, an activity she found rather enjoyable. The tension built when his eyes lingered on the arch in her back just a little too long, or when his hands gently groped and prodded at her body. These were the moments when she noticed the darkness in him threatening to give way to the barely contained lust that simmered just beneath.

His index finger ran a line from her chin, down her neck and chest, between her breasts, over her stomach and stopped at the waist of her pants. Then his hand was clasped hard around her face, squeezing her cheeks and he was glaring down at her.

“Before you came here, I asked you to do something for me.” He stooped to pick up the piece of ethernet cable from under the desk with his free hand. “But you questioned me, didn't you?” His grip tightened around her face as he forced her to nod her head. “That's right, and we can't have that. Chaos lies that way, you understand?” The plastic clip at the end of the cord glided gently across the skin on her neck and chest. He felt her tense, recognition and fear welling in her eyes, begging him not to.

In one swift, merciless movement he pulled back and swung the cord down as hard as he could across her stomach, the shirt she was wearing masked some of the pain but not enough. She cried out through her gag and writhed helplessly on the desk, his hands quickly followed to hold her still. He lifted her shirt, admiring the large raised welt forming on her skin, painfully following it with his finger as she flinched in his grip. He noted the way the plastic clip had broken the skin a little where it impacted. He drew back again, this time whipping her twice in quick succession then lifted her shirt to view the results.

She wasn't sure how many times this process was repeated or how much time had passed. Although in excruciating pain she had become too exhausted to cry out or physically recoil from the punishing blows, instead tears spilled silently from her glassy, reddened eyes. Hidden beneath her clothes were welts and broken skin across the entire front of her body. The exception was her face, he'd spared her that agony at least. More tears meandered a burning path down her cheeks as his hand traveled over her stomach and down her legs, pressing purposefully into her damaged flesh. He seemed pleased with himself until his eyes flickered and met her's briefly before looking away. For a moment she could have sworn there was some fleeting shadow of remorse in that look, though she wasn't about to point it out to him. Much better for her that she pretend it hadn't happened.

“Up, now.” he commanded.

He hadn't spoken for a while and the words cut through her consciousness like a knife. It took a moment to register that he was telling her to do something, her slow reaction resulted in the rough man-handling of her tender body as he pulled her to her feet and turned her around. She tried to concentrate, it was difficult, she was woozy from the beating. Every instinct was telling her to embrace unconsciousness but she wouldn't, _sleep means pain_ , that's what she kept telling herself. Her eyes welled as he forced her to bend over the desk – face down this time -- her wounds stung, pressed with callous indifference into the hard surface.

There was a shift in his demeanor as lust broke through the exterior of sadistic control. He pinned her with one hand between her shoulder blades, the other unzipped the fly on his trousers. Breath heavy with desire, he pulled his semi-erect cock out and stroked it with slow, gentle motions as he drank in her perfect, broken body. He rested his torso along her back, her bound hands pressing into his stomach, watching closely as the sudden warmth of his body caused her skin to contract into goosebumps. The hand that had pinned her traveled down her side to her hip, and then to her butt and upper thigh which he groped firmly.

“You've been such a good toy.” He whispered, exhalations blowing hot across her neck and the side of her face. His other hand let go of his cock to grab more of her thighs, “Ready to fuck?”

He held the fabric of her leggings taut in his fists and then tore them open with a hard jerk, causing her to quiver beneath him. With a hand placed between her shoulders again, he straightened himself and thrust his hardness against her ass with a groan. She wriggled in his clutches as his fingers poked at the crotch of her panties, revealing how wet she was in spite of his wretched behavior. He pulled them aside and slid two fingers into her, before withdrawing them and gliding those soaked fingers over his cock, then pressed the throbbing head against her opening.

“You want this, hm?”

She didn't reply, it wasn't a real question and she knew she was getting fucked whether or not it was what she wanted. Curiously though, it was exactly what she wanted and that felt all sorts of wrong. Even after being brutalized so badly, she felt an aching need for him evidenced by how dripping wet she was. What did that say about her? He kept moving the tip of his dick in teasing strokes over her clit and pussy. She shut her eyes tightly, muscles tense, breathing hard through her nose as she fought desperately not to push her hips back into him. _I hate you. I want you. Fuck me you fucking asshole._

Slowly he began to push into her, groaning as he took her inch by inch, watching himself disappear inside her warmth with great satisfaction.

“Fuck you're tight.” he exhaled, barely a whisper.

His thrusts became more vigorous as he let himself go, first holding her by the hips, squeezing and digging his fingers into her, then pinning her with one hand while the other held her bound wrists. He pulled her hard towards him by the arms, driving himself even deeper. A guttural, animalistic growl followed by a trickle of profanity left his lips as he admired her from this position.

Every thrust was ecstasy and agony. Her exhausted, bruised and beaten body was pressed forcefully against the desk and her wounds cried out as they grated the wooden surface. Tears poured from her eyes involuntarily, _Oh God it hurts so much, don't stop._ The pleasure and pain built within her until she could no longer suppress the carnal moan that escaped through her gag, the first sound she'd made in a while. It was an accident, she stiffened in his grasp, fearing his reprisal.

He pulled the gag off and tangled his hand in her hair, scrunching it in his fist and pressing her face firmly against the desk as he continued to pound her deep and hard. That sound she made drove him to the brink of coming, he wanted her to do it again.

“Come, I want you to come.” he commanded, his voice rough and shattered.

His words pushed her over the edge. She moaned his name over and over, her orgasm washing across her like a flood; writhing and arching against her restraints and him, her hips rolling into him as her pussy clamped tightly around his cock. He swore and whispered her name, the way she felt, the way she looked, the way she sounded urged him onward. He buried his pulsing cock to the hilt, filling her completely, groaning as he came hard and shot his hot seed inside her.

He remained there for a minute, panting, sweaty and extremely satisfied, before silently pulling out, his come dripping thickly onto her legs. He left her momentarily to find something to clean up with and then began to untie her wrists and ankles.

The rush of relief was overwhelming when he freed her feet and hands, it was finally over. Exhaustion seized her limbs, falling with a stumble when she attempted to stand up from the desk, but Stephen caught her and scooped her up in his arms.

He carried her up to his office and laid her on the couch there, the full light outside the theater painfully exposing every welt, bruise and laceration he'd delivered. She looked up at him appreciatively through half-closed dozy eyes before passing out completely. Very gently, he placed his coat over her damaged body and went to sit at his desk.

He allowed her to sleep for an hour and a half before ordering a car. Brushing her cheek with the back of his hand, he roused her from her peaceful slumber.

“I'll take you home.” he said softly as he helped her to her feet.

He'd brought her shoes and coat up from the theater and she put them on, thankful that her coat was long enough to hide the tear in her pants. Everything was moving quite slowly, she was still very tired and was looking forward to getting home so she could sit in the shower for a while.

It was early evening by the time they left, the trip was uneventful. Stephen had obscured his face with sunglasses and a cap to avoid unwanted attention on the street. He allowed her to set the pace, guiding her and keeping her steady on her feet as they made their way up to her apartment. When they reached her door he took his hat and glasses off.

“Will you be okay?”

“Yes, I'll be fine.” she replied in a soft voice while searching her numerous pockets for her keys.

In the midst of her search he lifted her chin so that their eyes met, her's tired and bloodshot. There was so much he wanted to say but none of it seemed appropriate so he kissed her lips softly, his hand cupping the back of her neck and his fingers caressing her nape. It wasn't an apology, he didn't know what it was, there was an odd twist in his gut and he broke the kiss, taking a step back.

She couldn't read the strange look on his face as he stepped away from her, it was unclear, and she was now confused on top of being utterly sapped of energy. _What was that?_ She rubbed a frustrated hand over her face, turning to unlock the door, grateful for an excuse not to look at him for a minute.

“I'm..” he began but stopped with a sigh, “I'll call you.” he said gruffly, putting his hat and sunglasses back on.

She turned in the doorway to see him walking away.

“See.. you.” her words floating quietly down the hall after him.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was surprisingly easy to write. Due to the content, I am not sure how to feel about that. Enjoy!


	5. Inertia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst, alcohol and terrible decisions, "You're in for a treat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person mentioned.

It was Friday evening, after a week most of the welts had disappeared and the other bruises and abrasions were beginning to fade. Vicky sat alone in her apartment looking over her arms again, at least it had been winter so she was able to conceal the trauma under long sleeves and coats. She felt strange about the whole scenario, certain that it should have had a greater negative impact on her than it seemed to. In fact she was downright disturbed at her reaction. The man was clearly unhinged, he'd whipped her black and blue. The intelligent thing to do would be drop him like a hot rock. Instead she found herself obsessively checking her phone, and periodically turned on in spite of – and sometimes because of – his cruelty. It was sick, _she_ was sick.

She hadn't heard from him at all since the day he dropped her off after their... session. The thought to contact him had crossed her mind but he had said he would call, besides that, she wasn't sure of the current dynamic between them. Things had been more relaxed when he brought her home but that was most likely post-sex euphoria. There was no logical reason to think that one session would sate whatever desire was lurking in the dark corners of his mind. It was more likely that just the opposite was true, it may have awoken something worse. Her mind slipped from one thought to the next until it rested on a question she had pondered many times over the last week.

“Why didn't I use the safe word?” she muttered under her breath.

The simplest answer was that she hadn't wanted him to stop. Allowing his vicious attack continue for so long fit with the narrative that she must be ill. It was the mark of an unhealthy mental state. She hadn't used the word for the same reason that every day, when lascivious thoughts of him materialized, she touched herself until she was crying out his name. That deep, commanding voice, his hands groping and pressing her aching skin, pinning her and having his way with her body, and punishing her recalcitrance. A pleasant shiver crept along her spine, she felt her nipples bud beneath her top and a tingling warmth spread between her legs. She rested her head on the back of the couch and stared blankly up at the ceiling, imagining his hot breath panted on her neck while he fucked her silly. Hands cupping her face and dragging her fingers through her hair with a groan, she expressed her frustration to the void.

“What's wrong with me?!”

There was that awkward moment before he'd left too, fingers grazing her lips as she recalled the memory of his kiss, then the look on his face and the way he'd recoiled. Was it regret? Disgust? That was it though, that must be the reason he hadn't called and, not for the first time that week, the knot in her gut pulled tight. She should have been the one to end this unhealthy affair, but no, it was _her_ left out in the cold. Typical. She hated herself for pining after him, for the flicker of hope she held each time she received a message or a call. _Whatever, where would it have gone anyway?_ Now _there_ was a path of thought she'd avoided, the inevitable answer was too unpleasant, and she'd discovered the reality was exactly that.

She reached forward to pour herself a few fingers of bourbon and grabbed the remote off the coffee table. With the glass nursed safely in her lap she flicked the TV on and began to search around for something to watch. It must have been late, how long had she been sitting there? The blood drained from her face, her chest tightened and her hands grew cold and clammy. This unexpected development had her picking up the drink from her lap to take a shaky swig, while a Late Show rerun played in her peripheral vision. The personality she was seeing here was worlds away from the man who had her gagged and bound on that very desk. She swallowed through the lump in her throat, never anticipating what it would be like to see the show after that experience. Sick fascination drove her to keep watching. She blushed whenever he looked at the camera, entranced by his unbridled joy, while the memories of every withering strike cutting a path across her skin, were dragged to the surface. Her mind clawed desperately trying to reconcile that this beacon of light and genuine kindness was the same person she had met. It couldn't be real, he was an actor and this was his greatest performance.

When the show ended she turned the TV off and took a deep breath. Watching that had been exhausting, painful and weird. For what ever reason she'd forced herself to sit through the whole damn thing, if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was emotionally torture herself. The remote was flung across the coffee table and she poured another drink, holding the glass up for a toast.

“Fuck you, Stephen.”

\---

It was so hard to sleep when his head would not be quiet. Some part of him, buried in the darkness would yell, “c _all her”_ , repeated in an endless, tormenting cycle. _Oh you care now do you? About how she feels, whether she's well?_ Ridiculous. It had never mattered before and it didn't now, she just had to heal enough so that the next time he needed her, she wouldn't inconvenience him with trivialities like unconsciousness or death. He wanted his toy to be lucid so that he could use her to greatest effect; that's what they'd agreed to, at least that's what _he_ knew they'd agreed to. He stared into the void of blackness above him, twisting and turning it in his mind until it formed images of her, like always. It had been the same for the last week, she would taunt him, make him come so hard that he couldn't move and then haunt his dreams. To him, all punishable transgressions. How dare she fulfill his every sexual desire and still be soft and kind and perfect. That would not do, he would break her.

He reached down, groping at his crotch in the darkness until it began to firm up in his hand. Quiet sighs and groans were whispered to the unknown as he switched to more uniform strokes. To the extent that it was possible, he had been surprised and impressed that not even an echo of an attempt was made by her to use their agreed safe word. Even he could admit he had pushed her hard that day considering it was the first session, a thought which sent a pulse of excitement through his stiffening shaft. She was resilient too, he had whipped her with that cord for hours but she never lost consciousness, a quality he appreciated. The process he used was a long and ritualistic inspection of cause and effect and, he believed, a decent indicator of her pain threshold. He rolled on his side and reached blindly for the lotion on his bedside table, pumping a little onto his palm then massaging it over his aching erection. _Yes, God she was sexy._ The way her back arched over her tied wrists, every flinching muscle as he struck her, how wet she had been when he bent her over the desk. _Fuck yes, almost._ How easily he slid himself inside her, the way she cried out his name and took all his come and.. His hand, slick with lotion and precome, massaged his rock-hard length, long and slow. He teased himself just a little bit longer until his heart was pounding and his stomach clenched. A wave of ecstasy pushed through his pelvis and along his cock, another groan forced from his lips, his orgasm erupting over him in a dripping mess that covered his quivering shaft and hand. He lay paralyzed, with a glassy-eyed blank stare and, in a moment of euphoric clarity, breathed into the darkness.

“The way I kissed her.”

In a barely-awake dazed confusion, Stephen fumbled for his buzzing phone. Holding it up and squinting into the bright light he saw first that it was 3am, then that it was Vicky calling. This wasn't supposed to happen, for a blink his heart leaped before he gained control of himself and made the split second decision to answer the call.

Neither one greeted the other, there was silence on the line for a few seconds as both parties assessed the situation. He thought she may have miscalled but then she started talking.

“Do you think about me, Stephen? I think about you every day, I want to make you come.” she whispered.

He stayed silent and tried his best to ignore the wave of sexual energy bristling across his skin. Her tone quickly shifted from seductive to annoyed when he didn't respond.

“I know you're there. Iss been a week, where are you? Y-you think you can juss abandon me? Fucking asshole.”

The dreadful slurring and reckless over-confidence told him everything he needed to know. He was quick to swoop in with a verbal reprimand.

“Stop Victoria, you are _never_ to contact me unless I..”

“Shut the hell up, you know what? You can't tell me what to do, I'm an individual, I'm worth more than this.” She paused and he heard her take a sip of something, “I'm not juss some piece of trash you throw away. You think I need you? I donneed you.” Her intoxicated statement was laced with the bitterness of someone who had been brooding in solitude for too long.

“If you're unhappy you just have to say the _word_.” He hissed with cold indifference.

She ignored him and continued to poke, “I saw you tonight, oh yes, you're sooo good at lying to the world, with your charm a-and your perfect smile, but it's all bullshit isn't it? I know who you _really_ are.”

Stephen's voice raised to match his ire.

“You know nothing.” he snarled, “I hope you enjoyed this little tirade, my dear.”

He hung up before she had a chance to respond. Speechless, incensed, he threw his phone angrily on the bedside table and swept his fingers through his hair, frustrated by how little control he had over that situation. He had been baited, meeting her drunk ranting with his own emotional retorts was a rookie mistake; it was weak and he was concerned he'd revealed too much. A toy was there to be played with at his pleasure, nothing more, he scowled into the darkness. Clearly she'd forgotten her place, and if she was becoming attached then he would need to fix the problem. He pushed aside the discomfort in his gut following that thought. This was _his_ game but he'd allowed her to get inside his head. These feelings indicated he'd not enforced the rules harshly enough, that was all.

Stephen lived in the suburbs when he wasn't working, the people in the neighborhood knew he was there but they were respectful and mostly left him alone. His house was obnoxiously large when one took into account that he lived by himself, but it was otherwise innocuous and a peaceful refuge from the chaos of the city. The following afternoon he was sharply dressed in a navy blue tailored suit and groomed to the hilt, he stood at his front door, pacing back and forth and occasionally checking out the windows. He'd been inside his head most of the day, still smarting over that phone call. A car pulled up to the gates at the end of the drive, shadow flickering across his eyes as he watched through the window. Now he was going to set everything straight and he was anxious to get started.

\---

When Vicky awoke the next day her head felt like a bag of wet sand. She was disoriented at first before realizing she had passed out on the couch, her phone and a nearly empty bottle of bourbon nursed in her arms. There were a lot of blank spaces in her memory of last night and something about that bothered her. A nagging feeling told her to check her phone, which she did, gnawing at her bottom lip as she apprehensively went through her messages and then her calls. Her stomach flipped, there was something, a call out to Stephen. _Oh God, oh God_. She racked her brain trying to piece together _anything_ that might remind her what she'd said. With a looming feeling of dread, she recalled her emotional state after watching that Late Show rerun, her heart raced with panic, this wasn't going to be anything good and at worst something unforgivable.

Sick with a hangover, anxiety and a sprinkling of heartbreak, she showered and dressed on autopilot. Sure, a blackout drunk phone call wasn't an ideal ending but maybe it was better this way. He could forget about her immediately, and she could plan a move to the wilderness where she'd never have to accidentally see or hear him again. The dull ache in her chest intensified and threatened to push her to tears. While she was taking a few deep breaths and giving herself a silent pep talk in the bathroom mirror, she heard a message come through on her phone. There again was that hope she hated so much, it probably wasn't him but it might be; although the call she couldn't remember was tainting her hope with heart-pounding anxiety.

_Get in the car, wear a coat and shoes nothing else._

Her heart leaped into her throat as she read and re-read the single sentence. He wanted to see her, that was unexpected. He also wanted her naked -- except for a coat -- in public, in the middle of winter. Humiliating maybe, but nothing that suggested he was in a worse mood than usual. She squinted suspiciously at the message, there was an opportunity here, she could ignore this. The car would leave without her, he'd probably never contact her again and it would hurt her for a while but eventually this would all become a faded memory. That was smart, that was thinking like an adult, making the difficult but ultimately healthiest decisions.

Five minutes later she was on the street outside her building, feeling very exposed even in her longest coat. The biting cold was easily finding it's way through to her naked body, and she thought that everyone who looked her way knew it. The car showed up shortly, she was surprised when it stopped in front of her, this one was fancier than usual. The driver stepped out to open the door for her and she got in the back. There was leather everywhere and a privacy screen, something she'd never seen outside a movie. Her first thought was that she was being taken to the Ed Sullivan again but then she realized the car was leaving the city. As the suburban scenery passed by, she felt herself becoming increasingly anxious and regretful. Maybe it wasn't too late to go back, she could just leap from the moving car, but then it began to slow and finally pulled up in front of a house. The driver opened the door for her, tipping his hat as she grabbed her bag and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Now alone in a strange place, a feeling of vulnerability loomed, in front of her was a long, gated drive which lead to a large house. _Stephen's house?_ Just as she thought that, the gate opened and she tentatively began to walk up the drive, gathering the collar of her coat around her neck. Her heels seemed so loud in the quiet of suburbia as she clacked her way up to the front door. Before she could reach her hand up to knock, it opened.

Stephen invited her in politely and she blushed as she walked by him, gawking at how handsomely dressed he was. The entrance was impressive, even in the darkening afternoon it was warm and light, inviting guests to wander further in. He watched her, his eyes lingering on her coat with a wide grin, then sipped the drink he was holding.

“You like it?”

She turned to him and nodded returning his smile with her own.

“Were you comfortable? The car I mean. I know it's a longer trip.” He handed her a drink of her own.

“Y-yes, it was very comfortable.” She was still feeling quite flustered by his appearance and on top of that by how casual the dynamic was. She thought for certain it would be like last time.

“Mmhmm, good, good.”

The way he said that was a seductive purr and it made her suddenly aware of her nakedness.

“This way.” he gestured for her to follow and they wandered into a sitting room at the front of the house. It was large, tiled in light stone and down one end there was a plush looking couch which faced a fire. “Sit, make yourself comfortable.”

There was a bottle of champagne chilling on a table nearby, she smirked, how drunk did he plan to get her? The thought gave her a quirky feeling, like being awoken from a dream; she realized something wasn't right as quiet music filled the room and he took a seat beside her.

“Is everything okay? You seem tense.” He moved to touch her shoulder and she jumped.

“O-oh, yes, sorry I'm fine. I think I'm just cold.” She was a terrible liar.

“Well, I can help with that.”

What ever concerns she had melted at the first caress of his fingers on her neck, joined quickly by the heat from his mouth. He seared her skin with his lips and breath and touch. She angled herself more towards him, moaning and dragging her nails lightly across his scalp. His kisses moved along her jaw until he was looking into her eyes and their lips met, wet and hot, each fighting to be in the others' mouth. Her hands held his lapel and then moved under his jacket, grabbing and rubbing the fabric of his shirt, feeling the heat of his body. They broke away, panting, red-faced. She was definitely warm now but couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that there was something else going on.

“Stephen.. when I woke up I found I'd made a call to you, but I don't remember..”

Her eyes flickered over him nervously, for an instant he looked incredibly tense, jaw tight, hands clenched into fists, and a pitch black stare, but then it was gone. A heavy sensation formed in her chest and a lump in her throat.

“It's fine.” There was a pause between the words and a distinct change in tone, his face softening to a smile when he realized she'd noticed the shift in his mood.

He stood to open the champagne and also put a little space between them to diffuse the uncomfortable energy. He aimed the cork, popping it into the eager tongues of fire and poured a glass for his guest.

“Here you go.” He handed her the glass and stood by, nursing his own drink and watching her curiously.

She nodded a thank you and took a large mouthful, almost the whole lot at once, in hopes of quelling her mounting anxiety with liquid courage.

“Alright, what's wrong?” With a sigh he took the drink and placed it on the table away from her, where he also left his. “Up,” he said gently and held his hand out to her, “dance with me.”

She hesitated, was that a command? “I-I don't know how.” She replied softly as she took his hand.

“It's easy.” He whispered and pulled their bodies together, holding her at the small of her back whilst his other hand held her's. “Don't worry, it won't be for long.”

The somewhat ominous statement sent a wave of panic through her, she stiffened in his arms and then quickly began to feel very woozy. “Wait what's...?”

If there was ever a time she didn't want her instincts to have been correct, it was now. Her vision was blurry, she pushed away from him and stumbled back, trying to focus as he paced towards her with a warm smile.

“Where are you going hm?”

The room was spinning, as he came closer she saw the warmth flee from him in a blink, and his smile become a scowl before he backhanded her hard across the face. The shock sent her sprawling to the tiled floor and she noticed with horror that it was becoming more and more difficult to move her limbs. He chuckled as she struggled and failed to right herself, curling up on her side instead.

“That champagne was quite strong wasn't it my dear?” He crouched beside her and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling it so that she was looking up at him. The pad of his thumb gently wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth as she exhaled panicked breaths like a frightened animal. His eyes fell leisurely from her lips to her coat which he began to unbutton entirely, leaving her completely exposed and helpless. He pawed at her with lecherous enthusiasm, squeezing her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers and running his hand over her inner thighs. A wicked smile parted his lips as he noticed her beginning to fade. “You're in for a treat.”

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like the flow of this chapter in a couple of places, but I didn't know how to fix it. I hope it's nothing too distracting.


	6. Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down the rabbit hole and into the maw of madness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person.

There was no light, was she still asleep? Her eyes blinked heavily trying to fight the drug running rampant through her system. She groaned into the floor and attempted to move but without luck. A groggy look around revealed no details about her location. Darkness engulfed her surroundings entirely, so she figured there must be no windows or they were blocked out. The things she knew for certain were that she was naked, the ground was smooth and cold and she could feel weight around her neck and wrists. Questions began to race through her mind as she inched towards lucidity. How long had she been unconscious? Where had he taken her? And worst of all, what was he going to do? She shivered and wriggled helplessly on the ground, willing her limbs to work. With tremendous effort she was finally able to grope at her bindings; they were leather with a thick metal chain that attached her wrists to each other and to the collar. In an attempt to crawl further into the room, she discovered there was a second chain that attached her collar to the wall. Frustration and fear took over, she growled and lunged forward as hard as she could. The collar tightened with a jerk around her neck and she quickly collapsed on the floor in a fit of coughing and spluttering.

The muffled sound of a door opening and closing nearby filtered into the room. Her eyes darted around the blackness expectantly, trying to pinpoint the entrance to this hole. A shaft of light flooded the floor opposite her and was gone. Panic set in as she heard his footsteps moving towards her in the darkness. She shuffled pathetically back against the wall and curled up, his presence so strong she could feel it overwhelm her in an instant without needing to see him. Searing light filled the room, she raised her chained arms across her face and clamped her eyes shut against the painful burn that followed, while they adjusted to the brightness. When able to open them a sliver, she assessed the space around her. It was large and circular, there was a ring of lights around the outer edge of the ceiling, and then a larger light in the center of the room which illuminated, what appeared to be, a stone slab. The first thought that occurred to her was _butcher block_ , and she shuddered with fear. The wall was windowless; paneled in dark stained wood, and the floor was black polished stone which matched the material the slab was made from. Immediately to either side of her there were bathroom facilities -- both offering some privacy -- and they were close enough that she would be able to reach them while chained, small mercies. Besides those few features, much of the room was open space and everything about it seemed to have been designed to be easily cleanable, an unsettling idea. Despite that, the textures and dark colors created a strangely sensual atmosphere, and through all her terrified thoughts an intense image emerged. Stephen was making love to her, slow, hot and dripping with sweat, in the center of the room. She gasped audibly. The unexpected mental intrusion caused goosebumps to ripple across her skin and her nipples to tighten.

Stephen eyed her, “Finally awake I see.”

 _Finally?_ Now she _really_ wanted to know how long she'd been unconscious. While looking up at him like a frightened animal, she noticed that he was still wearing the suit he'd been in when she arrived, so it may have been hours but not days.

“You're going to make some _supervised_ calls, you have people that will know you're missing. You're going to tell them that you're planning an... extended vacation.”

She blanched, how long was he planning to keep her there? What about her life? Her job?

“But I-I'll be fired, I ca..”

He walked at her, grabbed the collar and pulled her to her feet, then slapped her hard across the face, “You will do as I say, or haven't you learned that lesson yet?” His hand returned to grab her tightly around the mouth, “My patience for teaching you the basics is wearing thin. If you can't shut up and do as you're told then I have no use for you, do you understand?” The frightening warning was punctuated by his disabling black glare.

Some stupid part of her chose to press further, her voice trembling “Th-then maybe I'll just be disobedient, you don't think getting out of here is what I want?”

“Getting out?” He laughed coldly, “What ever did I say that made you think I would just let you out?” He narrowed his eyes at her, “But to answer your question, no I don't think so.”

She frowned indignantly, though the implication was terrifying.

His demeanor softened somewhat, likening him to a cat toying with it's prey, “You think I didn't notice what happened just before? What did you see, hm? That gasp, your goosebumped skin, your.. firm nipples.” Which he grabbed and rolled in his fingers before cupping her breasts and squeezing gently, “Something aroused you.. or, was it _someone?_ ” He leaned forward with a knowing smirk so his face was beside her's and breathed in her ear, “What was I doing?”

A deep blush spread involuntarily across her cheeks and her eyes fell to the floor.

He turned away and began on a new subject, “We have a problem Victoria.” He said more sternly.

Her eyes followed him curiously as he paced away but before he could finish his thought, she interrupted.

“We were making love ..on that.” She forced the words out quickly, gesturing to the stone block and the burning in her face intensified.

He stopped dead but didn't turn around, so she continued in her quietly embarrassed voice.

“It wasn't just sex, it was different. Intense, purposeful, laced with our unspoken desires and.. almost spiritual I suppose. It was..” she trailed off with a quivering breath, her eyes cast a languid look down his body and all of her extremities tingled.

This was confusing and he hated that. It was her fault, _she_ was putting all these goddamn ideas in his head, making him _feel_ things. He hadn't turned around because his own face flushed at her description of the imagined scenario. He didn't want her to see how she affected him. Her words brushed his mind like gentle fingers, suppressed his desire to punish her and replaced it with aching sexual need. He had to regain control, this was weakness. He was sure she was just trying to distract him with her beautiful, sexy, poisonous words, but now every part of him wanted to fulfill her fantasy. “I would give it to you.” he mouthed silently, his hands repeatedly clasping into fists and then releasing anxiously.

She watched him carefully, not sure what would happen next, then he turned suddenly and began to walk towards her with an unreadable look on his face. She recoiled from him at first but he took out some keys and undid the locks on her bindings.

He eyed her, fumbling with her shackled wrists, “Don't think this means.. It's nothing..” he stammered and frowned, averting his gaze in frustration.

Was he flustered? That couldn't possibly be.

The air between them was thick with tension as he reached around her neck to remove the collar, and when his fingers lightly brushed her skin it opened the flood gates. Their bodies met and so did their lips, his hands on her lower back and cradling the back of her head, hers rubbing his chest under his jacket and holding the back of his neck. They stole breaths between passionate kisses, tongues sliding together and into the others' mouth, neither wanting to stop or let go. His mouth was hot and wet against her skin, evoking a breathy moan from her as he dragged his lips down her neck, sucking gently and leaving an aching trail of bites as he went. They broke away, foreheads together, flushed and panting heavily. Their eyes met and in a moment of recognition everything was laid bare. The breath caught in her chest at that look, her pounding heartbeat felt intrusively loud and a warm rush of pins and needles fell over her from head to tow. She whispered his name into the space between them, it was weighted with emotion and hung there in the silence. He cupped her cheek in his hand, slender fingers caressed her face as his thumb brushed her lips and he mouthed her name in turn.

Without looking away, he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the middle of the room, sitting her on the stone block while he stood in front of her. Heat prickled at his face when he touched her breasts and stomach and hips before weaving his fingers with hers and they were kissing again, her legs wrapped firmly around his waist. She could feel his bulging package pressed against her and whimpered into his mouth. Her hands untangled from his, working their way under his jacket and pushing it off his shoulders. Stephen grinded into her, loosening his tie and undoing the buttons at his shirt collar. This was an invitation for her, pulling away from his intoxicating kiss and looking up at him seductively. Bottom lip caught between her teeth while she pulled the knot loose and slowly slid the tie from around his neck. Her hand then nimbly unbuttoned his shirt until she was half done and he moved in to kiss her again, and while he continued to open his shirt she fumbled with his belt.

There was glorious agony in the time it was taking for him to unclothe, she desperately wanted to feel his warmth against her but she also wanted to relish in each item of clothing slowly peeled from his perfect form. As his mouth wrested with hers she unbuckled his belt and pulled it from his waist, at which point he crawled forward, forcing her to lay back on the cold stone surface. He pressed his torso in on her from above, the warmth of her naked body and the tease of his shirt half caught between them, driving him wild. Her hands clawed his neck and chest, plowed roughly into his hair and pulled it gently. He groaned and thrust his hips against her, pulled her lower lip into his mouth to graze it with his teeth and whispered, “I want you.” These words sent a charge of arousal through her body which centered between her legs, she wanted him too and felt herself becoming wet.

His lips left hers, kisses pressed along her jaw and neck and elatedly, she realized he was heading lower, her chest rising and falling rapidly in anticipation. He paused at her breasts, drawing his lips across the soft skin, taking her budding nipples into his mouth and holding them in his teeth, tongue sweeping across them with firm flicks. Her fingers clawed his scalp as she ran her hand through his hair, euphoric sighs and whispers urging him on. His hands lagged behind as he continued down her body, groping at her tenderly where he had previously planted kisses. Finally his hands were on her hips, fingertips massaging her flesh, and she could feel his hot breath blowing against her aching sex. Her body writhed and hips thrust towards him, begging for relief. When his tongue split her open, wet and slow, she threw her head back, calling his name uncontrollably. He burrowed between her lips, groaning delightedly into her pussy as he entered her with his tongue and lapped at her wetness. “You're delicious.” he muttered against her, holding her hips and legs firmly as she cried out and squirmed in ecstasy. His technique flowed with her reactions, guided by the movements and sounds she made. The way his tongue worked intricately around her opening and over her swollen clit, drinking her in completely, quickly built her to an apex. As he continued to pleasure her with his mouth he reached down with one hand to open his tented trousers while the other caressed her thighs. He pulled himself out of his pants and casually stroked his length, watching her intently from his position between her legs. The beautiful twists and thrusts of her body had made him rock hard.

With a final lick that traveled up her cleft and onto her mound, she was left gasping and trembling on the edge of climax. He stood and kicked off his trousers, his hair was loose and messy, his unbuttoned shirt hung from his shoulders. Hungrily licking his lips, he looked down at her and grabbed one of her legs, lifting it to the side so he could see her pussy. Pink and wet and waiting. He gently entered her with two fingers and massaged her with his thumb. A flush spread across his cheeks as they disappeared inside her while she moaned and quivered under his touch. He rubbed at her soft walls, enthralled by the sensation, exploring her until he found the places that made her spasm, clench firmly around him and cry out his name. It was like a game and after playing with her until she almost came, he finally withdrew his fingers. They were slick with her juices and he admired them for a moment before licking and sucking them clean. She watched him in awe, her body a vessel of aching lust. His nostrils flared with each shuddering breath he took, desiring nothing more than to be inside her, he grabbed her legs and pulled her towards him to the edge of the stone mount. One arm wrapped around her back and lifted her so that she was sitting more upright in front of him. He kissed her and pushed the tip of his cock teasingly against her opening, then slowly slid inside her warmth.

She moaned into his mouth as he entered her, enjoying the taste of herself on his lips and tongue. Under his shirt, her hands were digging at his shoulders and leaving scratches over him. He growled into their kiss, pushing as far into her as he could until she broke away with a gasp. His hand wrapped tenderly around her thigh, pulling her into him as he thrust so he could drive himself deeper. The sex was long and slow and passionate, their bodies misted with sweat, everything she had imagined. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, wanting to be closer, to feel every inch of him. Her head rested in the crook of his neck while he whispered sighs and moans of pleasure into her ear. The energy between them was electric, every breath, the heat in his skin, the tension she could feel building within him, drove her relentlessly towards the edge. Everything that he had done or might do to hurt her left her mind and all she knew was now. This was perfect, he was perfect. He moved his hand from her back to tangle it in her hair and rested his forehead on hers, staring into her eyes as he continued to thrust and grind himself into her.

“You're going to make me come.” he whispered through panting breaths.

“Do it, I want you.”

She felt his fingers flex into her thigh, his pace quickened, his body tightly wound and barely in control. Her face flushed deeply when he forced her to keep looking into his eyes, panting into each others faces as they built towards their mutual orgasms. God he was sexy, the drenched shirt clung to him, sweat formed beads on his skin and trickled in rivulets over his chest. She could feel every inch of him filling her, hitting her so deep and in just the right way, she reached one hand down to touch herself. Just a little more. He was watching her so intensely and she loved it, she wanted him to see how good he could make her feel. When she was at the point of no return her orgasm uncoiled within her, she called his name and pulled herself as close to him as she could. Her nails carved into the skin on his shoulders as she came, eliciting from him another pained but lustful growl. A familiar fiery warmth pushed down from his stomach and concentrated in waves through his cock as he pumped her long and deep. When he felt her walls clamp tightly around him he fell apart, groaning and releasing inside her, overcome by adoration, affection and desire he had supressed.

“I love you, I love you..” he repeated in a whisper as he came, still holding her gaze.

For a blink he was clear, she could see the life in his eyes, his face set with an expression of determination, kindness, longing, and he was repeating a phrase she dared not imagine could be true. But it was just a flash, gone in an instant when he realized what he had said. Before she could even formulate a response beyond disbelief, his features darkened he had pulled out and caught her around the throat in a tight grip. He shoved her back, forcing her to lie on the stone block as he stared down at her, nose wrinkled in disgust.

She was awash with fear, pulling frantically at his hand as he gradually squeezed her neck until she was almost unable to breathe. Finally, he sneered releasing his grip, and she sat up gagging and rubbing her throat, eyeing him with utter despair.

“D-did you mean ..what you s-aid?” she managed to sputter.

The anger that filled him was marred by a shadow of uncertainty at the question but his brows furrowed. “No, you little _witch._ ” he snarled through gritted teeth while glowering down at her, “You've poisoned my mind.”

Tears began to well in her eyes and as hard as she tried, she couldn't stop them. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of him and did her best to hide it, but he had already noticed and it revealed in him another instant of uncertainty and remorse, which he hated.

“I don't want to fucking look at that.” He snapped, pulling her up by her arm. Even as she faltered and fell to her knees, he continued to drag her without care across the floor and quickly chained her up again. He walked back to the middle of the room to put on his trousers. There was a glint in his eye as he stooped to pick up the belt, he gripped it tightly and looked over at her slumped form. For a while he didn't move, just stared and mulled over the dark thoughts playing through his mind. Although her head was bowed he could see fresh tears falling in a silent puddle in front of her. He snorted and looped the belt onto his pants, “Shower. Now.” he commanded coldly.

She didn't move, she couldn't. Her body felt useless and weighed down as if he'd drugged her again, only able to lift her head and look up at him, face streaked with tears.

“Pathetic.” he muttered and paced towards her.

There was a split second of pain when he hit her hard in the back of the head and then darkness.

 

\---

 

When she came-to the lights were still on. Her head was throbbing painfully and her hair felt damp and hung limp around her face. He must have showered her. She looked groggily around but Stephen didn't seem to be there, then she saw with a jolt of excitement that the door to the room was open. It was only in her attempt to move that she finally noticed her new restraints and just how uncomfortable they were. An apparatus had been set up where she had previously been attached to the wall. It was a strange thing, she was standing with her legs apart and her feet chained to two small platforms, her arms were outstretched to either side and chained to the frame. The thing was tilted back about seventy degrees – it looked as though the angle could be adjusted – and it was forcing something against her back that encouraged her to arch.

Her initial excitement quickly dissolved when she realized why the door must be open and as if on queue, in walked Stephen. He was impeccably dressed again in his suit, and she cursed herself for still finding him so God damned irresistible, even in the midst of her current predicament. She swallowed hard, he had a trolley with him and as he wheeled it closer she could see various metallic implements, all very unpleasant in appearance. He walked casually towards her, with a leer he trailed a finger over her torso, pleased by the position she was being forced into and her visible discomfort. Eyes still on her, he moved behind the rack.

“Just like last time.” He said quietly and slid the tie from around his neck, forced it roughly between her lips and then lashed it to the headrest.

Only it wouldn't be like last time, she knew it was going to be much worse. This was real. What horrible thing was about to happen? Being unable to lift or move her head greatly increased her anxiety. Panicked, uneven breaths were forced out her nose as she wrenched against her restraints.

“Shh shh.”

He moved more to the side so that he was in her field of vision and gently brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. The way he looked down at her, it was almost loving.. almost. His eyes seemed brighter in the light, his touch was reassuring. She shouldn't trust him and wasn't sure she truly did, but something in his demeanor calmed her, like a silent understanding had passed between them. There was no point in wasting her strength on displays of futility.

“I'd better get the door.”

He walked away and she heard the heavy door being pulled shut and fastened, a sound of finality that sent a cold shiver down her spine. He made his way back over and began fiddling with the items on the trolley. Something occurred to her in the interim, what was this place? Further contemplation had her pulse on the rise again. He hadn't built it for her, he can't have, it must have already been there but _why_? Wading deep through these troubling thoughts caused her to whimper.

“Hm?” He half turned his head but continued with whatever he was doing. “Are you trying to say something, my dear? You'll need to speak up, you're on my deaf side.” He chuckled to himself and returned full attention to his task.

Her hands clasped and tugged gently against her bindings as she tried to pull herself out of spiraling panic. Somehow this was going to be okay.

Stephen picked a scalpel and held it up to the light, flicking the blade with his thumb before his gaze fell on her. The echo of each heavy step on the stone floor was meant to incite fear, and he could see the tension in her flexing muscles as he moved closer. He kicked a lever and with a jolt the rack moved upright, flinging her forward so she hung against her restraints.

A better view of the room did not bring her comfort when he was beside her brandishing a scalpel. Her eyes widened with fear, looking frantically between it and the unreadable expression on his face. She was hyperventilating, begging sobs groaned through her gagged mouth. His fingers gently brushed the damp hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear, there was an odd distance to the look in his eyes, as though he were on autopilot, and she saw his lips move without making a sound. “So beautiful,” she read on them, a blink interrupted her glassy-eyed stare, her breathing slowed for a beat until a frown flickered over his face and she cried out in frustration, flinching in a fruitless attempt to reach for him.

“Settle, settle now.” His tone was mock kindness, and he held her face to enjoy the terror in her eyes. “There's such a long way to go yet.” Casually rolling the scalpel between his fingers within her field of view, he then rested his forearm across her throat and held the blade against the skin on her chest. He felt her body tense and found the control arousing.

“Victoria.” He purred, catching her off guard, the sound of his voice and her name on his lips filling her mind, traveling her skin in a sensual wave. _No, God this isn't good, this shouldn't feel good._ There was a wet and warm sensation as he licked across her breast before he took a nipple into his mouth, gently biting and swirling his tongue over and around it, until she was unable to hold back a muffled moan. The kiss of cold steel still present, the forearm across her throat exchanged for his hand so that he was able to freely reach her breasts. As he continued his mouth-play and she reeled in some disturbing terrified pleasure, he pushed the blade firmly into her flesh and dragged it along her chest in a single quick motion. She cried out and his hands gripped her to negate the movement as she thrashed in her bindings. He dropped her breast from his lips and stood to inspect what he'd done, pulling gently at the gash while she looked on in horror.

“How did that feel?” he queried as though this were an experiment and continued his examination, “It hurt I'm sure, but there was something else too, some fucked up enjoyment, right? That must be confusing.” He looked up at her, dark and knowing as a smile curled at the corners of his mouth.

The pain in her chest radiated across her body but she remained still and stared at him through tear-filled eyes, heavy quivering breaths forced in and out through her nose. It was messed up how right he was, she hated herself. The moment he had cut her was agony that melted and mingled with lust until her suffering became ecstasy. Even now she could feel desire clawing at her mind and body.

He trailed a finger down her stomach, then between her parted legs. She was almost dripping wet, his fingers sliding easily inside her while she writhed and moaned. “Mmm, seems I _was_ right.” He pulled his fingers out with a smirk and wiped them on the tie around her face.

After determining there wasn't too much bleeding from the cut, he went to the trolley and picked up a cloth and a bottle of something. He wet the cloth and met her misted eyes with his own cold stare, his brows furrowed, “Now, why don't you tell me again how I abandoned you?”

She didn't understand what he meant and tried to shake her head. What was he talking about?

When she didn't respond satisfactorily he pressed the cloth against her wound and when it screamed, she did as well. He barely gave her time to process the agony she was in before he held the blade up to her heaving chest again, it's sharpened edge teasing at her skin. Tears were streaming down her face and she was sobbing openly.

“Tell me you don't _need_ me.” He hissed, applying pressure so that the blade began to dig. He scowled at her weeping face even as some buried part of him stung with self loathing.

Through her pain and tears she trawled her mind for any idea of what he was talking about. Then it occurred to her, the only thing that made sense _,_ the phone call. She thrashed and cried out, a look of utter pleading on her face. Attempting to acknowledge that she at least knew what he was talking about, even if she didn't remember the call itself.

He lifted the scalpel away slowly, eyeing her and then used it to cut the tie from around her head. “Speak.”

“S-Stephen, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” she sobbed wetly, “This is the call? I-I didn't.. I don't remember.” She was sorry. _She_ was _sorry!_? That didn't make any sense based on her current situation, which was what every logical fiber in her was screaming. However, she rationalized her response, an agreement had been made with him, even if she hadn't known to what she was agreeing.

His face flashed with intense anger, “That is not good enough.” His volume escalating to a yell as he spoke, punctuating his final word by hitting her full force across the face.

When she recovered there was blood dripping from her mouth onto her chest and she hung forward limply, her restraints pulled taut. “I.. I did something awful.” She croaked through heavy breaths, laden with tears and blood.

He raised his hand to her flinching face and smoothed his palm across the cheek he'd just brutalized, then brushed her hair back with his fingers, “Yes, my dear.” He said more softly, before planting the blade on her chest and slicing her a second time. The tortured cry that followed was no longer muted by a gag and he felt it rip at him. “Shh shh” he cupped a hand around her mouth tenderly to subdue her sobs, placed the scalpel between his teeth and inspected the second wound. This one was deeper and bleeding more freely. He picked up the cloth from the floor and dabbed at it, eliciting a painful hiss from her, then took the scalpel in his hand and placed it against her once more.

She lifted her head, finding it difficult to focus, her lips crusted with blood and a fist shaped bruise beginning to form on her cheek. “I... do.. need you.”

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit longer than normal, it's also a bit more fucked up. I hope you like it!


	7. Butterfly Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all falls apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning: Rape**
> 
>  
> 
> I have underlined the scene if you'd like to avoid it, but there are also a few references to it after it takes place.  
>  
> 
> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person.

By the time he took her off the rack it was late into the night; the session had gone on for hours and she had finally succumbed to unconsciousness. Pinched, hit, sliced and bitten, he had not granted an iota of mercy, her body was beaten, severely bruised and covered in gashes that varied in severity. Blood still oozed from some of the deeper cuts, smearing on him as he held her, _damn_ , he thought as he carried her to the shower, he would need to get this suit cleaned.

He rested her carefully down so that she was sitting slumped against the wall and wandered away to get rubbing alcohol, soap and a wash cloth. He took the detachable shower head and aimed it away from her, testing the temperature of the water on himself first. She wasn't awake but he took great care to avoid anything that would cause unnecessary pain if she were. Very gently he cleaned her wounds and washed the crusted blood from her body, doing his best not to linger too long on any particular detail. It was difficult however, to ignore the cries and sobs imprinted in his mind, and the nagging feeling that what he was doing now went beyond tidying up after himself.

This was dangerous, he was on an emotional tightrope and not for the first time, the threat of slipping nipped at his heels. While he walked it there was distance, the ability to remain indifferent and treat her as an object. That was safe, that was a relationship he understood. He wet her hair, brushed it out of her face, wiped the blood from her mouth and cupped her cheek in his hand. His thumb caressed a bruise below her eye, then he noticed the glistening highlights on her wet skin, and the soft, inviting part of her lips. He knelt beside her – his trousers becoming soaked on the shower floor – and leaned in to kiss her sweetly, then frowned and averted his eyes. With a sigh he stood and shut the water off, walking away a few paces before turning to address her unconscious body. “You are stupid, naive and far too attached to me. This is the problem we have, Victoria.” he ranted, pointing at her, “Do you see what I've done? And you think you _need_ me?” Of course hours had passed since she'd said that, but it stuck in his mind more than anything else. “You want to be.. with me.” He muttered as confusion flooded in, and he began to pace back and forth in front of her, “No, no! What makes you think I would love anyone who wants _this?_ ” He gestured in disgust at her beaten, limp form, soaking wet and slouched against the wall, “Ridiculous.. pathetic.” The lies he told himself wrenched at his gut, “Even in unconsciousness, you're infuriating.” He spat in a callous attempt to separate himself from what he'd done and the storm of emotion within.

“I can't be here right now.” He said bitterly, laying a towel on the floor before carrying her over to it and chaining her to the wall again. Next to her he left antiseptic and some dressings then stooped to stroke her hair, “Take care of those cuts when you wake up, my dear.” He kissed her forehead, adding in a whisper, “I hate the way you make me feel; why are you such a stubborn temptress? I don't want to have to hurt you so badly but you do nothing to stay my hand.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, “Just break, let me play with you in peace.”

The place she was imprisoned was a hidden basement extension and he emerged on the ground floor of the house. Being out of there allowed space for his head to clear but that was not necessarily for the better, as thoughts of her tortured cries swirled in his mind. He cursed her name and checked the time, it was late so he decided to shower and sleep.

His bloodied suit landed in a heap on the floor and he stepped into the shower. The water would wash this all away. _What have you done?_ He frowned to himself, this wasn't his fault, he had to break her to break the attachment. _She'd_ made him, _she_ had a way out and didn't use it. _You know why_. It's sick, she shouldn't feel that way. _Why? It's the same way you feel_. Bullshit. _Perhaps you're right, it's not the same, she is gentle and kind._ “Shut up.” He spoke aloud, closing his eyes tightly. His jaw was tense, fists clenched at his side, _But you, you just need_ _her to be weak, to desire being used, to need_ _ **you.**_ _So who's pathetic now?_ There was a loud crack as his fist met the tiled wall, his grazed knuckles staining it with blood. “Fuck this.” He hissed. shaking his throbbing hand and angrily shutting off the water.

\---

Over the following days he would visit only to bring her food and check that her wounds weren't becoming infected, doing his best to remain distant. It was a challenge to ignore her begging. She would grab at his leg and look up at him, her eyes were beautiful even when reddened and glassy with tears, clearly he had failed to sever her affection for him. She was physically damaged but there was tenderness in her touch and fondness in her gaze. His every visit brought hope then broke her heart, and it was as though a knife twisted in his gut. This left him in a difficult position.

One evening he was in the sitting room by the fire, a tumbler of bourbon swirled absently in his hand as he pondered what he might do with her when he had to return to work the following week. The most merciful thing would be send her back home – his fingers tightened around the glass – but her injuries would be a problem she would certainly get questions. His brows furrowed in thought, he didn't particularly want her answering questions, perhaps it would be safer to keep her until she was healed. _Very altruistic of you._ He grumbled at his conscience, which seemed to be rearing it's hideous head with ever increasing frequency. The antidote was alcohol, in which he now regularly indulged, not only did it quiet his mind but also numbed the chaos of emotion tearing at his insides. The well defined boundaries he had set up to justify his behavior and maintain a healthy indifference were beginning to crumble, for the first time he caught glimpses of the monster he was. He drank deeply, finishing his bourbon in one mouthful and poured another.

Half a bottle in and he was quite unsteady on his feet, bracing himself on the back of the couch as he wobbled his way out of the room. He paused at the bottom of the stairs and stared down the hall. No, he was going to go to bed, he _should_ go to bed, but his alcohol-soaked brain ushered him towards the basement door. When he flicked the lights on in the room, Vicky was already half sitting up and staring at him. There was suspicion and concern on her face, he didn't normally visit twice in a day and it had only been a few hours since he had brought her food. He stumbled towards her and rested himself against the stone block in the middle of the room.

She eyed him with trepidation, “S-Stephen are you..”

“I have to go back to work in a couple of days,” he interrupted in a drunken slur, “and you...” he pointed in her general direction, “you'll stay here, you can't go while you're all... you know.” Gesturing at her in reference to her injuries.

“No...please, I'm not going to tell anyone!” She begged, tugging helplessly at the chain attached to her collar, adding quietly, “You know I never would.”

“I don't know that at all, I don't _know you_ and you certainly know nothing about me.” he frowned, “You're just some naive young woman who's too stupid to know what's good for her. You're nothing and nobody to me except an object to be used.” His razor tongue could cut deeper than any physical wound he'd inflicted. He saw the color drain from her face, if heartbreak had an expression he was looking at it now. Normally it would bother him but the wrenching in his gut was dulled by bourbon.

“I-I can't..” she curled up on the floor in despair as the tears flowed freely over her face.

The sight caused an uncomfortable sting even through the alcohol shield he'd erected. He walked over to her – swaying as he did – and unchained her from the wall. “Come.”

She didn't move.

“Get up.” He snapped, yanking the chain and nudging her with his foot.

Through a haze of encroaching numbness she heaved herself to her feet and he pushed her to walk ahead, keeping a hand on her shoulder to steady himself and guide the way. When they exited the basement she paused to stare around the hall, realizing where she had been the whole time. She half turned to him before he urged her on and they made their way upstairs to a guest room.

“I'll let you stay in the house to sleep, but while I'm at work you'll be downstairs.” he muttered.

She turned her tear-soaked face to him, even in his inebriated state he could see a defiant look in her eyes and it ignited unpleasantness in him.

“Get on the bed.” He growled and shoved her backwards so she fell awkwardly, yelping when her wounded flesh cried out in agony. It took him a while to figure out how to attach her to the bed frame, eventually rigging something together that appeared to work. “Go to sleep.” He checked one more time that she was secure and turned to walk out of the room.

“B- bal..rog.” she whimpered, her chest tight and aching.

He was about to cross the threshold when he heard it and stopped dead. The energy in the room shifted to something extremely tense, his jaw tight and fists clenching until his knuckles were white. He slowly walked over to the bed side and drew himself up, glaring down at her menacingly. “No.”

She frowned in defiance and repeated more clearly but still softly, “Balrog.”

Fear crashed over him like a breaking wave and his mind scrambled for anything, any reason to justify making her stay. No, no, she couldn't leave, she couldn't because he wasn't prepared, he didn't want her to go. “I said no!” he yelled and scrambled on top of her, paying no mind to the tenderness of her body. He straddled her legs, pinning them down and held her thrashing arms – which were bound together – in one hand. With his free hand he unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging it off and wrapping it around her face. She was fighting back hard despite the pain she must have been in but he managed to fasten it around her head. “Ungrateful slut.”

She groaned through the shirt and continued to struggle against his unwavering grip, glaring up at him angrily, her chest rising and falling with frustrated breaths.

As hard as she struggled, he easily held her fast and then forced her arms onto the bed above her head. She took the opportunity when he lifted himself off her legs, to kick and thrash mercilessly, but it was to no avail as he quickly sat on one of them and held the other down in his free hand.

She cried out as his fingers bit into the cuts and bruises on her thigh. “Balrog.” she repeated loudly, though it came out as nothing but muffled noise.

“I'm sorry, I can't understand you.” He climbed between her legs, forcing them apart with his knees followed by a languid gaze that traveled up her body until he met her eyes; the expression on her face shifting from anger to fear at his suddenly calm and collected demeanor. She struggled again, attempting to kick him, but was unable to pull away. He unzipped his trousers and pulled his cock out, looking at her with pitch black lust as he stroked himself to complete arousal. Her squealing protests were ignored and he began pushing his hardened length into her.

“Please. Stephen no.” she sobbed uselessly as he forced himself inside her inch by inch, his hand once more grabbing painfully at her thigh and the friction of him against her damaged skin wrested a tormented cry from her.

He felt her body relent as he started to fuck her with long slow thrusts. The hand that was groping and massaging her thigh slid up to squeeze her ass, settling on her hip with a firm grasp while fervent sighs parted his lips next to her ear. As he started to fuck harder she protested in muffled words and cries, the meaning of which he could only guess. “Shut up, shut up.” He whispered as he moved in her, the soft warmth and tightness around him further rousing his desire. Raising his upper body off her, he sat back and hugged one of her legs to his chest so it hung over his shoulder. The new position allowed him to slip deeper into her causing him to grunt and curse elatedly and set a pace that was quick and rough.

The smell of bourbon from his breath lingered even once he moved away from her face. She felt ill, she was in pain, her eyes stung from crying. “Stop please,” she begged one final time through the gag, hoping the dire tone in her voice would appeal to any flicker of conscience left in him, but it was pointless and she was exhausted. In still silence she allowed him to tear at her body, this would be over soon, it had to be. Maybe it was her fault for getting so deep into something she didn't understand, or maybe it's what she wanted all along. It was difficult to tell anymore, the lines had been blurred since they'd met that first night. She fell into thought, the pain evaporating for a time until he moved position again and she was brought back screaming and wincing as his weight bore down – through his hand – on her injured chest. His hand moved to cup the place her mouth was under the shirt, she caught his eye for a split second. He couldn't even look at her, he hated himself, somewhere in there he did and right now so did she. “Good, fuck you.” She whispered.

Hard and uncaring, this was animal, this was a fuck, this was.. his face drained of color but he pushed through it, finishing with a guttural groan. He didn't look at her, just pulled out, put his cock away and began to unchain her from the bed. “Get up and get out.” He growled and shoved her along in front of him all the way back down to the basement room.

She was weeping silently, used and in pain, bruised now even inside her body. The humiliation she felt compounded as his come dripped down her legs, while she walked with her head hung in shame. When they arrived he pushed her into the room and she fell to the floor in a weeping mess. Some of the deeper lacerations that had at least scabbed over in the days since he'd tortured her were now reopened and oozing blood, but she was beyond caring. The physical, mental and emotional abuse finally took it's toll and for now she couldn't conceive of moving from that spot.

He didn't follow her in, too drunk to care to chain her to the wall and too drunk to care what she thought or felt, he slammed the door behind her. However, the sound she made was like nothing he'd heard before, a hurt so deep it could pierce any barrier, including his drunken shield. The illusion shattered like glass around his mind and everything he'd done weighed in on him at once. “SHUT. UP.” He slammed his fist against the door and stormed away, he didn't want this, he couldn't take it.

The following day he didn't go to her, not even to bring her food, it wasn't as though she would even eat at this point. He sat in silence, alone, brooding. He had not slept, nor yet allowed himself to become sober and the darkest of dark thoughts flitted through his mind, ideas on the best way to end things. He had held her captive, tortured and now raped her, she was a liability. This wasn't something foreign to him, there was a reason that room was so.. clinical. He had been careless and weak willed because of her help, her kindness, her soft beauty... he scrunched his eyes closed and shook his head. A choice based in feelings instead of practicality led him to this point, a mistake he wouldn't make again. It was late in the day and the decision had been made, finally he passed out, tomorrow he would carry out the task.

She didn't notice the hours pass, nor that he hadn't been to see her today, nor the hunger that stabbed in her gut. The ebb and flow of her emotions was unpredictable, from free flowing tears and gut wrenching sobbing to almost feeling human again. Somewhere in those endless hours her mind started to work, she realized that he'd left her free from the wall, only shackled by her neck and wrists. This was the opportunity she'd sought, the reason she had wanted to save her strength all along and not waste it on futile battles.

A shower would clear her head and rid her of his filth, his smell still hung in her mind and she wanted it off her skin. She hissed as the steaming water hit her open wounds, biting through the pain until her body grew used to it. There was difficulty in washing with the way she was bound but she carefully cleansed herself as best she could. The arduous process gave her time to think about how to use this fortunate situation in order to escape. Flashes of him kept surfacing, he was forcing himself on her, drunk and indifferent, the images were so vivid she would squirm as if to free herself before reality melted into view around her. Forehead against the wall, she could feel another wave of emotion about to engulf her, there was just no reconciling the man she had met that first night with the one who lived here. She was betrayed, her chest heavy with heartbreak and hope extinguished. There were more important things to do than waste time crying over him, but nevertheless the tears came and she sank to the floor at their mercy.

Eventually she regained control of herself and stepped out of the shower. She would have to drip dry, the only towel in the room was crusted with her blood. There was still some antiseptic which she applied liberally before dressing the worst of the cuts that she was able to reach. A plan had formulated, it was simple but anything was worth trying; her options were limited. She walked over to shut the lights off, and resisted the urge to focus on what would happen if it failed.

\---

The desire to sleep was overwhelming, her eyes felt like they were full of sand, rough and heavy but she remained determinedly awake. She was crouched in the darkness and listening intently for any sign of life outside her prison, the chain that usually attached her to the wall was doubled over and clutched in her hands. He had been very drunk, there was a chance some details would slip his mind and this part of her plan relied on it. Her heart galloped at the slightest noise, there was no way to know what time it was or whether he would even come today but she couldn't risk missing her opportunity. The thought that he may never come back had occurred to her, he might just leave her down here to die. She shook her head, that kind of thinking wasn't going to help.

He awoke the following day, rolling lazily out of bed to take something that might help the hammering in his head. It was late in the morning as he discovered, tomorrow was a return to work and life as usual but before that he had to take care of his current problem. He decided to prepare food for her as not to arouse suspicion, the details were fuzzy, plotting murder with a hangover was not pleasant, but he'd work out the kinks as he went along. It wasn't as though he hadn't done this before. As he gathered some food together on a tray, the events from the day before last started to creep into his head. His brows knitted as the memories stung at him, reminding him of the monster he was and the monstrous thing he was about to do. _I should have just gone to bed._

Her head was nodding constantly as she fought to stay awake, but the sound of definite movement was instantly rejuvenating. Adrenaline pounded through her and she was suddenly fearful that her thudding heart in the strained silence might give her away. The door clunked open, this was it.

He wasn't careful or concerned at all as he opened the door, that he'd not chained her to the wall had completely slipped his mind. As he stepped into the darkness and turned to flick the lights on something caught him painfully in the back of the head. The tray flew out of his hands, he stumbled forward, confused and in shock and grabbed at the place he was hit, eyes searching the shadows for his assailant. Another blow – this time to the face – had him on the floor and then a third knocked him unconscious.

She stood over him panting and shaking uncontrollably. Had she really just done that? There was no time, she had seen too many horror movies where everything went wrong at this point. She turned the lights on and knelt next to him, rummaging through his pockets. The adrenaline still coursing through her made doing anything with precision difficult. “Please, please have them.” she whispered. “Yes!” She extracted the keys from his pocket, immediately trying to find the one that would undo the locks on her restraints. While fumbling with that task she walked briskly out of the basement and towards the front room they had been in the night he'd drugged her. She removed the collar but the wrists were harder to undo. Lacking the dexterity in her hands to reach the keyholes, she put the key in her mouth and brought her wrists to it, struggling to keep calm. The leather and chains fell to the floor with a crash. Now that she was unburdened her attention turned to her bag, she hoped he'd forgotten about it, tearing frantically around the sitting room looking for it. He could have been waking up now for all she knew, her hands clasped at her hair in panic but then she saw it, on the floor by the threshold. A wave of relief washed over her and she scrambled to put on the change of clothes she'd packed. Her injuries throbbed and stung painfully as the fabric clung to her skin but her desire to survive negated that. She threw her coat over her shoulders but didn't bother with shoes – there was only need to be covered enough for public decency – leaving them behind and fleeing to the front door. There was a moment of hesitation, she looked down the hall expecting to see him lumbering towards her with murder in his eyes. That was enough to snap her back to reality, flicking all the switches on the wall until one opened the gate at the end of the drive and she fled outside into the street.

Of course her phone was dead so she ran to a nearby house, knocking frantically on the door. The man who answered was shocked when he saw the state of her, disheveled and beaten. It took a lot to convince him not to call an ambulance or the police. He allowed her to use his phone to call a cab and she thanked him and went to wait out front for it with a sense that he was keeping an eye on her. She hoped that he wouldn't call the police anyway, she didn't want to answer any questions, she wouldn't, that had already been decided. When the cab arrived she wasn't sure where to go. Home was tempting, but some of the cuts were concerning her, they weren't closing properly and most likely needed stitches. With a sigh she decided on the hospital, even though the wait would be insanely long and she was exhausted.

The wait was long, but she was at least able to find a space to sleep until she was called.

“I told you I fell off my bike.” She repeated flatly as the doctor, in awe of the extent of her trauma, poked at her for information.

“I see, and when was this?”

“Yesterday.”

She sat on an examination table nude as he cleaned and dressed her wounds, several of which required multiple stitches. When it was clear she wasn't going to tell him the truth he fell silent. At the end of the appointment he handed her prescriptions for pain killers and antibiotics. “You will need to see a GP to have the stitches removed,” She nodded and stood to leave. “and ..please think about going to the police.” To this she did not respond, just eyed him with suspicion and walked out. Strangers stared at her as she passed by, even in a hospital her heavily bruised face stood out as odd, at least her other injuries were hidden. All she wanted to do now was go home and sleep for eternity.

Stephen came-to an hour or so later, his head now in pain for two reasons. Fingertips pressed gingerly to his face revealed what were sure to be horrible bruises and a few cuts as well. She had got him good. He stood groggily, walking slowly to the door, it was interesting to him that she had not chosen to lock him in the basement room and wondered if it was a conscious decision. Taking much more care now, he made his way upstairs, thinking she might still be in the house. He peaked down the hall in both directions when something caught his attention. The restraints lay in a heap on the floor, he looked at them curiously and felt at his pockets. “That clever little bitch.” Again he was impressed, and made his way to the sitting room where he thought she probably went. “Ah, came to get your bag did you?” He stooped to pick up one of the shoes she'd left behind, a smirk curling on on his lips. From where he stood, he could see the front door was ajar and he wandered over to close it. “Good girl.”

She slept for a long time, waking only to call in sick to work the following day, asking for a few days to recover and explaining her “bike accident”. The idea of turning up looking the way she did filled her with dread. The questions would be incessant and makeup could only do so much.

After sleeping for nearly a full day straight she finally pulled herself out of bed and enjoyed an evening shower, grateful she could clean herself without restraints and also with a lot less pain. Her mind relaxed and drifted to memories of Stephen, he had stood right here but it was hard to believe, that night seemed like an age ago. Now there was time for her to process what had happened, she remained in awe of her escape, so much could have gone wrong and she shivered at the thought. She felt a twinge of concern in spite of herself, wondering if he'd recovered. That much would be easy enough to find out, knowing he was supposed to have done a show last night; though whether she wanted to watch it was a different matter. Things had progressed so quickly and so horribly between them, it was like a roller coaster, if the roller coaster only went downhill and ended with a fiery crash landing. Her fingertips pressed inattentively at her skin as she stared into space, the memory of their sex was imprinted on her. She sighed, touching the places he'd kissed her and where his hands had been, she could almost see him, feel him. He backed her against the shower wall, pressing himself against her, his lips were soft... _No, hell no_. She shook her head, wondering how she got so fucked up, fantasizing about him was not okay. Maybe he had been right, she really _didn't_ know what was good for her. “Naive and stupid.” she whispered to herself.

“Welcome to The Late Show, I am your host Stephen Colbert. Now uh, before we get started here, first of all it's good to be back, I hope everyone had a good Christmas and New Year?” He paused to let the audience cheer, “So did I, but some of you might be wondering what's happened to my face,” he gestured at his injuries as the camera took a close up, “I want to quash any rumors that what happened to me wasn't something awesome,” The audience chuckled, “ and the best way to do that obviously is to start my own, so I'm gonna to saaay, I spent my holiday wrangling and taming a wild exotic animal.” He shrugged, his tone nonchalant, “It's a hobby.” he nodded and stuck his hands in his pockets, “Beautiful, beautiful creature, they can put up a fight though, who knew right? Who knew that?” He added, turning to Chris and then to Jon as the audience laughed.

She paused it for the hundredth time on the moment just after that, when he looked into the camera and smiled, a dark look masked in his trademark joy that she knew was meant for her. It sent a tingle down her spine followed by the uneasy sense that it was not a question of _if_ she would see him again but _when_. What she had been through was not an experience she wished to repeat, nevertheless an ember of fondness remained, as fucked up as it was to entertain. She stood up and brushed her hand tenderly across his paused face on her way to the bathroom. Something else had been bothering her, something that pressed on her mind far more than the worst of what he'd done. After she'd left the hospital she dropped by a pharmacy to pick up her prescriptions but also a pregnancy test. The walk to the sink, where it had been left resting face down, felt a lot longer than usual. Her hands dragged down her face and she looked up, whispering to the void, “Please God, if you're there, please no.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and held the test up, flipping it over with shaking hands.

“..Fuck..”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to have this be two chapters but I am not a skilled enough author to create the content to justify that. The story started to weigh on me emotionally, I think I need to write something happy. Endings are a weakness of mine so I am sorry if it's disappointing! I may revisit this later but for now it is complete.


	8. Intention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this certainly isn't a good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person.
> 
> _The following image is a rough layout of Vicky's apartment. I thought a visual reference may be helpful. It's not properly scaled or anything, I'm no designer._ ;P  
> 

Vicky awoke with a start. She sat bolt upright, sheets clasped to her chest as her eyes darted around the room in a panic, while the sweat that dripped down her body quickly chilled her to the bone. This series of events had been the norm for several weeks now. 2:30am glowed red from the clock beside her. She slid off the bed and walked to the bedroom door, peeking into the living room. The nightmares had been increasing in severity and frequency, but she was certain _this_ time she had heard something. A heavy ornament from her dresser was clasped in one hand and, heart pounding, she sprang around the door frame. Nothing. Then she heard a shuffle, her head snapped to look down the hall towards the front door. The blood pounded in her ears, all her body seized with fear. There was the sound of keys and then a door opened and closed, it was a neighbor. Just a neighbor. She silently scolded herself, placed the ornament on the coffee table and wandered down the hall. Her life was ruled by paranoia she'd fostered in the weeks since her escape, certain that _he_ was around every corner. Her hand and breath shook as she reached for the handle of the front door, pulling it open a sliver and squinting through the gap. Just like all the other times she'd done this, there was no one. She opened it as wide as she could while it was chained and looked out into the empty space, hoping to desensitize herself. As her eyes fell to the floor outside, a cold sweat broke over her skin. There was a box, plain and tied with twine to which was attached a tag. She unlatched the door, snatched the box inside before slamming and locking it again. With her back to the wall she slid to the floor, staring at it. Trembling fingers reached for the tag, tearing it from the box and taking a deep breath as she lifted it to eye-level.

_I thought you might like these back._

The incessant shaking made it difficult to tear the box open quickly but soon enough, there they were, taunting her, the shoes she had left behind. He may as well have been in the room laughing in her face. She swept her hands through her hair and stood, kicking the box with frustration into the wall opposite. A confusing mix of fear and rage and desire twisted inside her. He had been there, right there at her door, she knew she would not sleep for the rest of the night. The tag caught her eye, laying in the middle of the floor, and she stooped to pick it up before returning to the living room. Something wasn't right about the way she felt, of that she was certain as her fingers tenderly traced the letters written on the scrap of card.

“You touched this.” she whispered, biting her bottom lip gently.

There was a comforter already on the couch which she bundled around herself, poking an arm out to place the tag on the table in front of her and grab the remote. A pleasant sensation of pins and needles washed down her body as she scrolled through her list of recorded shows. There were unwatched episodes of The Late Show that she'd been avoiding. Tamping the desire she still felt for him was a difficult battle, the logical part of her knew it was a problem. “ _These aren't real feelings, it's trauma._ _I need therapy.”_ she had said to herself many times in the last few weeks, but still she couldn't let it go. Against her better judgment she began to play an episode. It had been a while since she'd seen his face or heard his voice, though echos of both frequented her thoughts and nightmares. _Stephen_ , she mouthed silently as the monologue began, her heart pounded and face flushed with exhilaration. The worst of what he'd done to her was swept aside so that only the way he'd fucked her floated through her mind.

“Yes,” she whispered, “look at me like that..”

She leaned back, loosening the blanket from around her body, her eyes remaining fixed on him. One hand traveled up her shirt to her breasts, squeezing gently and playing with her sensitive nipples; the other into her pants to rub at the heat between her legs. When her eyes closed it was his hands on her, soft skin and a firm grip, elegant fingers that were perfectly proportioned. She moaned aloud. He entered her with two, they were so long, touching and moving in her like she'd never felt before. Her eyes opened a sliver to look at him again, she had paused his smiling face and it filled the room.

“I wish you were here,” she uttered lustfully at his image, “I want your tongue between my legs.”

Her head fell against the couch as she pushed her fingers into her opening and dragged them, slow and wet over her swollen, aching clit. A sigh left her parted lips and in her mind he was there again, his fingers deep inside her while his other hand groped at her breasts and stomach. She felt his tongue rolling against her and cried out louder than she meant to. He ate her with enthusiasm, hungry for her taste and a desire to make her call his name. The memory of his voice entered her thoughts, the way he'd said she was delicious, it was almost too much.

“D-don't stop, don't stop.” her words panted to the empty room.

She was dripping with need at the thought of him. Her fingers were so slick as she rubbed herself that to imagine it was his tongue flicking and teasing her was easy. A wave of heat followed by cold rushed down her body and her muscles tensed in anticipation. She opened her eyes again to look at his frozen image and it pushed her over the edge. “Stephen, yes.” she moaned repeatedly, writhing in ecstasy, her thoughts shifting between her fingers and his tongue against her clit, engulfed in the pleasure of her orgasm. Her limbs and eyes felt suddenly heavy and she could feel the winter cold creeping across her skin again. She wrapped the comforter close around herself and laid down on the couch, lips twitching into a smile as she stared tiredly at his face. It was easy to feel affection for him in the minutes after he'd made her come, but it wouldn't last. The fear was already returning along with the memories of abuse and torture, and the idea that he had been at her apartment became unsettling. She reached out of the warmth to grab the ornament off the coffee table and hugged it to her chest.

“I shouldn't be smiling.”

 

–--

 

 

Work was an ordeal, everyone looked at her differently now and she knew they were talking about her, even after all these weeks. The amount of times she'd walked into a room to a wall of silence and fake smiles was uncountable. On top of that she still had her other little problem to take care of, she hadn't told anyone at work about the pregnancy, not even the few people she considered herself close to. There was no one at that place she truly trusted not to gossip. This was a topic she didn't want to be asked about, or have them speculating on over lunch, especially as she hadn't decided what to do yet.

It should have been an easy choice, at least that's what she thought. Neither option was ideal but keeping it made less sense to her, though she still hadn't made any effort to find a clinic. Her thoughts kept going back and forth, some idealistic fucked up part of her wanted a happy family. _A happy family?! With him?_ While at work, the bathroom was the only place where she could find some peace and clear her head. She washed her hands and splashed water on her face before straightening up to observe herself in the mirror. The tired face staring back at her was a concern, it was not the kind of tired when you miss a few hours sleep; she was carrying the weight of all her trauma and suffering alone, and it showed. This was one burden she could clear, today she would at least make an appointment.

 

 

–--

 

 

She entered her building just after 9pm, thumbing through notifications on her phone and oblivious to her surroundings. For the first time in a month she felt lighter and less paranoid, having made an appointment at a clinic that wasn't far from where she worked. This was the right decision. On and off the elevator without ever looking up, then to her door where she felt around for her keys before her phone started to ring.

“Hello?” she answered distractedly, finding her keys was the more important mission at that moment.

“I know where you went today.”

Stephen's voice was smooth and threatening, it turned her blood to ice. Panic grabbed tightly at her throat and throttled her attempts to respond. She hung up and shot around in search of him, her hand frantically digging through her bag until she found the keys and fumbled to get the door unlocked. All of her energy was now focused on calming her shaking hands so she could get inside her apartment. The door to the stairwell opened and closed, she didn't notice, not until a gloved hand held hers steady and pushed the key into the lock. It was him, of course it was, she didn't need to turn around to know that. His body was warm behind her, familiar, sensual and terrifying. She knew what she should do, scream, push him away, run to the police but she couldn't move, his presence was disabling. He must have known that too, which was why he so brazenly approached her in this way.

“In.” he whispered softly.

She felt his hand applying light pressure to her back to encourage her forward. Roused from her paralyzing fear she barged inside and ran to her room, slamming the door and locking it behind her. She sat against it, curled up in a ball, hugging her legs with her face in her knees.

Seemingly unconcerned by her behavior, Stephen stepped casually into the apartment – it was familiar to him of course – took her keys and closed the door behind him, removing his gloves as he walked down the hall towards the living room. The box he'd left for her – with her shoes still inside – lay crumpled near the wall and he picked it up. As he entered the room he could tell immediately that she'd spent more than one night on the couch. He placed the box on the table and picked up the out-of-place ornament, testing it's weight in his hand. The tag caught his interest then, curious that it was over here while the box had been left. He sat on the edge of the couch, leaning forward to put the statue down and picked the tag up instead. He read it and rubbed his thumb across the letters. “Curious indeed.” He whispered with a smirk, squinting at it and then at the television before him.

“Victoria,” his voice was firm, commanding, “come out please. I think we have something important to discuss.”

He listened closely for any movement but heard none, reaching for the remote with a sigh and turning the TV on. “Let's see what you've been watching..” he muttered as he found her DVR, cocking a brow with a wide grin when he saw himself in the recently viewed list. His attention shifted to her room and he stood, picking the heavy ornament up once again before walking over to her door and crouching next to it. He pressed his hand and forehead to the wood and spoke.

“I only want to talk, my dear.” attempting to sound less authoritative than he had previously, “Don't make this difficult.”

“Please leave me alone, Stephen.. please.” her voice was raw, straining to mask tears and a fearful quiver.

His eyes glanced back at the setup in the living room, fingers gently stroking the door, “I know that isn't what you want. You've been thinking about me, haven't you?”

“No,” came her indignant muffled yell, “get out!”

She punched the door causing him to pull back in surprise. He frowned and stood, “I didn't want to have to damage anything, my dear..” raising the ornament over the door handle, “but we really need to talk.” He brought it down hard over and over until the handle broke and landed with a thud on the floor. He was certain she had been sitting against it but he pushed the door open easily, grabbing one of her arms and pinning her against the wall with his weight when she tried to flee past him.

“Stop, stop.” He held her struggling form in a grip that was firm but gentle, “I'm not going to hurt you.”

“Oh, that's so _fucking_ thoughtful of you, Stephen.” she spat, scowling at him defiantly and trying not to think about the way his body pressed against her or how his soft hands held her arms still. Blush crept across her face. “There's nothing to talk about. How do you even know where I went? You're having me followed now?”

His eyes darted away from hers, he looked sheepish and guilty but ignored the question, lowering his voice to a near whisper, “The thing you want to do is a mortal sin. I have a stake in this as well.”

This was a different side of him, some part he'd never really expressed in her presence, or of which she had only seen glimpses. All she remembered was that his temperament could turn on a dime. She didn't trust it, or him. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, “Hypocrite! You forfeit your 'stake' when you did this to me.” Gesturing at her arms and lifting her head so he could look at the damage he'd done, fresh scars and some wounds still in the process of healing. There was a familiar flinch in his face when he reluctantly looked her over, and she felt a flood of panic.

His grip tightened slightly around her arms, “It.. was a game, y-you agreed to..” 

“Bullshit,” she cut in, “games have rules, we had _one_ and you couldn't even follow that.” She wrenched forward in his grasp in spite of her fear, infuriated by his obtuse response, and attempted to get in his face, “Do you even understand how far you pushed? And then when I couldn't take anymore...”

His eyes flashed, he pressed more firmly in on her, “Don't lie to me, you were enjoying it.” One hand began to trail up her arm, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. He maneuvered so that his lips were only inches from hers, and then cupped the side of her neck, “I felt you, dripping wet while I cut you open. Is that the sort of attention you crave? You're a little fucked up..”

She fought to snuff the urges that began to build when the warmth of his breath rolled across her cheek, “You _raped_ me, Stephen.. or did you forget? I haven't.” Just saying it aloud released a flood of detailed memories. If she'd had the strength she would have torn him apart in that instant, but instead remained still and glared at him. Those eyes of his were so dark, alluring and staring straight into hers. She felt a gratifying tingle in her skin where his hands held her and between her legs. _No, no. I don't want him._

He averted his eyes, looking intently at her neck and chest, the unnatural light bathed her skin in an odd yellow hue. “It wasn't meant to be like that.” His voice was quiet, “..I just needed you to stay and you _, you_ had to be difficult.” He moved in close to her neck, the hand that held her arm now released it and came to rest on her waist, “And you're being difficult _now,_ my dear.” His whispered words and warm breath replaced with hot kisses, plied with enthusiasm.

She whimpered, a sound which acknowledged both how wrong this was, as well as the surrender to her taunting lust. Her searching hands moved over him and beneath his coat, pulling him in. The heat of his body, the smell of his cologne, intoxicating. She was captured in his honeyed trap and voiced her disapproval with a breathy moan in his ear, “I hate you.”

 


End file.
